


Retribution

by Ambrose_19



Category: One Piece
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Because i like to torture the characters, F/M, Gradual Recovery, OCs - Freeform, Slow Build, Smut, mature - Freeform, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose_19/pseuds/Ambrose_19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman who broke his iron philosophies concerning the word vengeance. A woman who had become as important as the three swords he so lovingly wielded. Now some bold f*ckers had decided that it would be alright to put their hands on what he considered his, the word vengeance now carried an entirely new meaning to him. It screamed for more than just tit for tat. It screamed for retribution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Retribution

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! new writer to AO3 here!  
> Since Fanfiction does not allow imports, i decided to try to bring one of my recent ones over here to see how it goes.  
> I decide to re-write and continue a One Piece fanfic I found called 100 Ways to Prove that I Love You. Credits to the author: Hanzatsu-Hime. I love the concept and wanted to use it to turn it into a story. Before any of you guys say I’m plagiarizing, I did message the author and got his/her permission to use the theme.  
> I do not own the concept nor do I own the characters! They belong to Oda (characters) and Hanzatsu-Hime (concept)!!
> 
> NOTE: The setting of this story takes place during the Dressrosa Arc. I decided to do a few MAJOR changes to the Arc so before you read, there are some things you should be aware of.  
> 1) The entire Strawhat crew is IN DRESSROSA. Since I’ve decided that this fanfic will be a (ZONA) pairing, it means that Nami MUST be in Dressrosa and not stuck fighting Big Mom.  
> 2) Doflamingo WILL be defeated. Obviously not the way Oda wants him to be beaten as seen he hasn’t finished the fight scene between Luffy and Doffy. Instead I’ll have to get REALLY creative on how he loses since I honestly have no clue how Oda wants Doffy to lose.  
> 3) Err…Zoro’s ridiculous sense of direction WILL be multiplied. That means our swordsman will somehow be able to defy all logic and physics by simply being an idiot.

He felt so f*cking lost.

Never mind how he felt, where the hell was he anyway?

The swordsman had taken a couple of left turns, then some right, then another right before he found himself…

Now how did he manage to get out of that damn birdcage?

Scratching his false mustache, Roronoa Zoro twisted his stern expression into a frown as he inspected the web-thin wires that had the power to slice cities as easily as knife to cheese,

“How do I get back in?” he muttered. To any Dressrosa citizen trapped in the cage, it was probably the stupidest thing they heard; who’d want to look death in the eye when they’ve just escaped it?

The answer was simple; he was a f*cking Strawhat, he was a part of the Monster Trio…which meant that he was also an idiot.

Why was he running again? Ahh, yes how could he forget? Nami.

At the thought of the Strawhat navigator’s name, the swordsman felt the familiar feeling of intense hatred shoot into his body. Anger so sharp it hurt became a blackening wave that threatened to overwhelm his senses as the first mate struggled to reign in his emotions. This wasn’t the first time he had felt such fury run like a live wire through his body. Anger and stubborn tenacity had been his companion ever since Kuina had passed away. He had become wild as the beasts that roamed the seas, forging his path through sheer strength and a will that rivaled the former pirate king himself.

His style of living was simple; sleep, drink, train, lope off a couple of heads for a few belis, train, eat, drink, sleep some more.

Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

His life was black and white. Simple. Tolerable, and easy.

And Roronoa Zoro was perfectly fine with that… until his world exploded in a brilliant flash of colors. Colors filled with vibrant shades of scarlet red so vivid it was blinding, stained shades of murky yellow, wild colors of blue and flashes of royal purple, brown and green that he designated to each of the people that played a significant role in his life.

Yet there was one color that his mind automatically categorized as irreplaceable. A color that forced not only his mind to acknowledge it, but it also demanded that his body bend to its will. It was a color that dyed a certain female’s hair in fiery shades of dazzling orange and ginger. Even now, the pads of his fingers were aching to dig themselves into those vibrant locks. Dig deep and spread wide till they encased the entire frame of her head. He would then fist his hands into her hair and tug her head back to slam his mouth over hers. It would be a kiss to punish and to drive her into a wild frenzy. He’d drag his mouth down her neck to slide those hot, open-mouth kisses that he knew would leave her writhing and screaming while his fingers migrated south to that sweet, sweet spot between those creamy…

They touched her.

Black fury slammed into his body as another wave of images poured into his mind.

_Red fingerprints had marked her upper and lower torso, numerous ‘love bites’ were scattered all over her body giving the impression that she had come down with small pox. She had gone alone to do a bit of shopping and information-seeking for their next destination and the crew had been worried to discover that she had been absent from the Sunny for more than her usual three hours. It wasn’t until Ussop and Chopper’s choked screams told the crew what had befallen their navigator._

_They had carried her to the Sunny on Chopper’s back with Ussop in tow. Tears and snot covered both the sniper and the doctor’s face as they barged through Sunny’s entrance only to be held back by the rest of the crew. The swordsman had only managed to get a glimpse of her current state and the sight burned into his mind, striking him like a whip._

_The navigator’s clothes were torn to shreds. Pale shades of groping red lay stark against her light skin. The hawaiian printed flowers on her bikini that he secretly found attractive was replaced by Ussop’s shirt, the sniper’s shift was long enough to cover her ass, but it couldn’t conceal the handprints that stood out like a sore thumb on her thighs._

_Those soft silky thighs that his body had been craving for… soiled._

_The navigator’s fingers were gripping so tightly onto her clima-tact that her knuckles were bleached of their color._

_And the look on her face…the helpless, helpless look on her expression had become the final catalyst to the explosion of one single emotion: rage._

_Fury rented the air like the scream of a banshee. It demanded retribution, it commanded for utter vengeance. The feeling rippled down each and every one of the crew and gave a vicious twist as it hit home; the swordsman’s heart._

_In that split second, he felt his blood boil and his hands immediately sought out the rough handles of his swords, his thumbs caressing the blunt tips as he glared daggers at the floor; he was never one for vengeance since he saw that as a stain to not only his swords but his pride._

_Her hair, the flaming ginger locks that he longed to lose himself in were twisted and tangled into an ugly mess of knots. Dirt and – was that a boot print? – clung to her hair setting free another gut-wrenching emotion he had carefully buried away; anguish._

_Just this once… just this once will the man allow such a tainted emotion to become his drive, just this once will he let vengeance fuel the flame in his body, turning his demeanor into a tense statue of cold, blacken ice._

_For his sanity, for her._

_Vengeance for the one who took a permanent residence in his heart…for her, it would be worth it._

_He never once doubted that she couldn’t take care of herself. Yes there were times when she needed some rescuing from a tight spot, but she had always been able to hold her own during their battles. To see that broken look on her face made him remember the promise their captain had made to Nami’s family: never let her lose her smile._

_Just how many did she have to fend off?_

_Shusui was growling for blood, he knew it thrived on the bloodshed he drew from his opponents. Unlike the rest of his swords, this one particular sword had always hummed in pleasure, becoming a permanent extension of his arm, always purring when the razor-sharp end of its blade bit into flesh. However, Shusui wasn’t craving for just an onslaught of blood…it craved for a certain death it knew its master was more than capable of achieving._

_The sharp sound of knuckles being cracked alerted him of his captain moving to stand in front of him. The first mate looked up to see the pitch black orbs of his captain glaring down at him in barely contained anger; complete destruction was imminent._

_And God help any man who evoked the vengeful wrath of the Strawhats._

Now how the hell was he going to get back into the cage? Zoro reached out to tap on a wire only to snatch his hand back with a curse; he knew the strings were sharp, but he didn’t know they were that sharp!

Perhaps he could try cutting it? His teeth automatically set themselves around the sides of Wado and his hands gripped the handles of Shusui and Kitetsu, crossing the blades and drawing them over his head,

**“Hyakuhachi Pound Ho!** ” Zoro’s arms clenched as he brought all three down in a diagonal spiral, sending a sharp slash cutting through the air. Not surprisingly, his attack fell against the might of the wires leaving nothing but a puff of air in its wake.

Maybe if he walked around it long enough, he’d find a way back in? It was probably a stupid idea but he wasn’t above trying it, after all, he did somehow manage to get himself out, how hard would it be to get himself back in?

Gearing himself up for a long walk around the cage, he began to walk, struggling to keep from walking in a straight line; the cage was a circle but his feet were thinking square so they wanted to keep going straight.

The swordsman’s mind traveled to the distinct memories of her creamy thighs and shapely legs that he’d wrap around his hips. He’d allow one of his hands to travel down the front of her waist and from there, slide his hand over her and cup her. He knew his action would mean more than pleasuring her, it would mean that he’d have complete control of her body, absolute possession.

Nami didn’t share his idea of ownership; in fact, she fought him with every part of her every time he pulled one of his domineering stunts.

Yet she couldn’t deny anything when he was inside her, outside, she bit and scratched and yowled whenever they fought. But when they were alone and his body took control of hers, the strong-willed woman turned to putty beneath his hands. She may curse and scream, but she’d always be his no matter how much she denied it.

“I’m not yours!” she’d scream and he’d punish her again with a barrage of kisses, his hands would reach up to tangle themselves into her hair and he’d press his bare chest against her, mashing her breasts to him; his answer would be the hand in between her thighs…

Ehh? How did he get himself back in the cage?


	2. Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Her 'Ruin' is Retold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!:I've written a scene that involves sensitive topics such as rape and I want to warn those who are sensitive to this topic to avoid this chapter. I will leave an explanation of what has transpired in this chapter in my next update. So please if you are easily affected by these topics please avoid reading this chapter. Granted that this is my first time detailing such a scene, you might not feel much needless to say, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> I do not own One PIece, that goes to Oda himself.  
> Thank you to Hanzatsu-Hime for the concept.

Ehh? How did he get himself back in the cage?

Zoro blinked for a span of two seconds before he shrugged and set at a jog down a narrow alley; the birdcage must've somehow moved and gotten lost.

As he ran, his mind flipped through a couple of blurred files before it regurgitated a faint memory of Ussop recounting how they found Nami and drawing some sort of map with a pencil. Through a mess of angry and hurriedly brushed-off tears, the shooter managed to sketch a detailed image of a blue-shingled building in Acacia with some sort of circus-inspired cap on the roof…or was it two caps? To the crew's surprise and rage, the structure was seated near Doflamingo's palace which to the Strawhat's first mate was one of the most ridiculous structures he had ever seen.

When the crew's doctor and sniper were sent out to look for their navigator, they had originally poked their heads –and noses – into a few shops which, according to Chopper, Nami had recently visited. After a straight 30 minutes of looking, a massive, black cloud had raised a mere hundred yards from where they were and for a split second, the area was bathe in a brilliant light of what could only be Nami's thunderbolt tempo.

When the dust cleared, Chopper's keen ears caught an ear-piercing shriek that struck the air only to be cut off followed immediately by a rowdy roar of triumph. With Ussop on the doctor's back, the duo took to the roofs, Chopper's lithe body nimbly flying over the structures before he skittered to a stop a few feet from the scene.

"Nami!"

In front of the duo eyes was the Strawhat's navigator fighting with all her might against a group of Dressrosa's rugged band of palace securities. Although several bodies lay unconscious around the flame-haired woman, more seem to appear and converge against her. It took three of them to wrestle away her clima-tact while four more had their hands all over her upper torso and the rest had their mouths over her lower limbs. To the youngest crewmate's horror, they had already ripped away the few pieces of clothing that covered her intimacy and were shrugging off their own uniforms,

"It's been awhile since we've had the opportunity to sample a woman," they were all smiling that sickening smile with the intention of doing everything and anything they wanted to her.

If anything, the expression of the navigator's face was just…beautiful. In this kind of situation, a woman would have simply cowered and whimpered in fear. Nami however, demonstrate to the male sex that she wasn't just any woman. Instead, she gave a toss of her flame-colored hair, lifted her chin and faced the men with a mad gleam in her eyes and a wicked snarl on her lips,

"That will you cost two million berries you bastards," she hissed and bared her teeth, "you ripped my favorite top and bottom which I bought for two hundred and thirty belis NOT including tax and messed up my hair that I just got cut for a hundred and ten belis," she gave them a disdainful sniff, "add that up with my one hundred and ten percent interest and that would cost you more than what your pathetic lives are worth."

A man with a knife slash down the side of his jaw stepped up and fisted her hair, jerking her head back as he pushed his bulbous nose to her,

"What do you mean we owe you b*tch?" the sickening humor was gone from his face as he yanked harder making her cry out in pain, "listen up and listen well, we own you now," he gave her hair a final tug before he stepped back and unfastened his belt, "now be a good little b*tch and get on your knees."

The duo was done watching, with a ground-shaking roar, Chopper's tiny frame rippled as his body engorged and enlarged into a heavily muscled beast; his eyes burned a menacing red as he dove down from the roof and gave a mighty lunge at the group of men. The fur along his arm swelled and hardened as his fists smashed against flesh, his expression twisted into some sort of dark grin at the sound of bone snapping. The doctor wasn't going to shy away from the bloodshed; he had become a monster intent on protecting those he considered precious, and he was more than happy to roar it to the skies, loud and proud. A scream broke out from the soldiers and they gave a mad scramble for their weapons only to be shot into the air by an array of bamboo shoots,

"Midori Boshi Take Jave-rin!" came the rallying cry as Ussop shot toward the small cluster; his fingers gripped the thick string of his slingshot as he struck again and again. He spun and slammed the butt of his staff into the soft flesh of a soldier before ducking to allow his partner leapt over him to engage with another opponent. The ship's doctor was practically vibrating in rage; it was the first time the teenager had seen an attempted rape, but to see it happen to one of his precious nakama…Chopper released another roar and leapt toward his nakama only to have three blunt ends of a gun ram the back of his head and he stumbled with a howl,

"Chopper!" Ussop yelled as he fired off another round of his beloved pop greens before he scrambled toward his companion.

"I'm fine!" the doctor shook himself and morphed his body into the long and powerful legs of a reindeer stabilized with thick, hardened horns as he charged forward.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR I'LL F*CKEN SHOOT HER!" it was the deadly control in the soldier with the knife wound's voice that gave the youngest crewmate a pause. Chopper, lowered his horns to access the guard who held his friend captive; the man wasn't joking, he decided, he was really going to pull the trigger if he moved. The doctor glared at the guard between bared teeth,

"Return our nakama!" he shouted as the man became bolder and took another step forward dragging the navigator with him. He had a gun pushed tight against her temple while three others had their own arsenals trained at her body. He gestured at Chopper's form and Ussop's slingshot,

"You want her? Then you do what I say," he snarled and pressed the gun tighter on her head, "drop your weapons." With a curse, Ussop allowed his slingshot to fall at his feet and the reindeer let out a hiss as he reverted to his original form.

The guard smirked,

"Now that wasn't so hard was it?" he flicked his wrist and a new set of sentries rushed forward immediately cuffing the reindeer and shoving the duo to their knees, "good thing I called for back-up."

"O-oi! Let me go!" Ussop found his shoulders pinned by two pairs of hands; the third shoved his head to the ground, his cheeks scraping the dirt.

"Get off me!" Chopper shouted as he was forced to his knees, his arms and horns were held in a tight grasp as he thrashed and bucked till the smooth barrel of a gun forced him to freeze.

The scar on the man's cheek seem to gleam in perverse delight as he slid the gun against the navigators' jaw, "I enjoy a little voyeurism so I won't mind if your little friends want to watch," his fingers bit into the soft flesh of her cheek as he wretched her face up, "you cost me quite a bit of trouble young lady," he clicked his tongue as the navigator pushed her face closer only to spit,

"Let them go," her body was stiff, tension rolled off her shoulders in waves as she glared up at the man with nothing but utter disgust, "you want me? Then pay up and release them." She cast a quick glance at the duo and nonchalantly shrugged, "they don't have anything to do with this."

Captain of the Donquixote Guardia, Commander Serg shook the red haze from his eyes as he inspected her face; this woman had given him a pause, why wasn't she crying? He had hoped to hear the woman scream and beg for mercy but the female in his hands didn't even flinch. Her head was tilted up as she proudly stared him down, defiant in every sense of the word. The commander allowed his eyes to trail down the smooth column of her throat, to the tips of her full breasts and south to the soft thatch of hair between her thighs. He flicked his eyes to the remaining guards and almost felt sorry for her. Doflamingo was a ruthless tyrant; he didn't accept anything but perfect, anything less resulted in a horrific beating and expulsion from the organization. Doflamingo had for whatever reason, placed restrictions on any sexual activity among his men. Because of this, his handpicked men were all unmarried and sexually active.

The Donquixote Guardia was a small group of highly trained elites that served to protect the members of the Donquixote Family. Their methods of training were so brutal and intense that death from exhaustion wasn't a surprise. However, after four years of grueling conditioning without anything to take the edge off their sexual appetite, a male's libido can only withhold the strain from blue-balls for so long. The Donquixote Family had stressed that abstaining from sex allows the individual's willpower to strengthen and flourish, but Serg highly doubted that the Donquixote Family abided by this principal saved for maybe Lao G. Looking at his men, he saw the strained hunger in their eyes and knew they were at the end of their rope; the men needed a woman's body, and this one would have do. Serg closed his eyes for a brief second as he pulled the flame-haired woman to her feet and pushed his nose into her hair as he inhaled. He pulled back to look at her and was met with a set of flashing russet orbs clouded in fury. She was shaking, he realized as he steeled himself for the crime he and his men were about to commit; the woman was indeed brave.

Commander Rafael Serg felt the red haze that he had fought begin to rise again as he schooled his features and sucked in a quick breath before the red haze took him. The Red Haze was the terminology he and his men had created for the intense need to have sex that would occasionally come upon them. Their eyes would literally be glazed over as if they were blind and they would sometimes pass out from fighting the Haze. Once the Haze passed over, the men woke up with no recollection of what they had done, which was a respite for those who were ashamed to admit that they've given in to the Haze. During this phase most of the men locked themselves in their quarters to relieve the pain and others took to using each other for relief.

Now that there was a woman in their grasps, there was nothing to stop them from the Red Haze now clouding their eyes; all they needed was the go from their leader and they would be on her like vultures on a carcass.

Rafael Serg allowed his fingers to trail once more over the long fiery locks of her hair before he abruptly dropped his hand and spun the navigator around shoving her to her knees.

"Hands and knees," he growled as loud buzzing filled his ears and the dreaded Red Haze floated over his eyes as the Commander gave up his body to the Haze.

* * * 

Nami's teeth automatically clenched as the man shoved her body to the ground, his hands grasped her hips, giving it a rough caress before he drew back his hand and brought the flat of his hand onto her ass.

"Scream b*tch," came the growl and she gritted her teeth and took it in silence; she would not scream, even if they beat and kicked her, not a sound would come from her lips.

"The b*tch isn't screaming, lemme help ya," the navigator felt her teeth grind against each other when her bottom was punished with a flurry of hard smacks that echoed in the dark corners of Dressrosa. At the immediate flash of pain, she wanted to curl up into a ball and wail. Her lower torso was throbbing by the time they grew tired of hitting her. Two pairs of hands wrapped themselves along her hair, her long, long hair and gave a hard yank, forcing her head back.

Do. Not. Cry.

That was impossible, her head screamed in pain and a wave of tears clouded over her eyes before she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. A heavy body practically fell on top of her and Nami choked, her throat worked furiously as she struggled not to let a sound escape.

Do. Not. Scream.

Their hands attached themselves to her breasts, fingertips rolling and pinching at her nipples with such violent vigor she had no doubt that it would leave a mark. Nami fought to keep her expression neutral when they began to slide their mouths over her breasts, fought to keep her emotions from overwhelming her as she watched their throats convulse as their teeth bit into her tender flesh,

"This one's tough Captain, I wonder how long will it take will we break her," Nami forced herself not to turn away from the two cocks thrusted in her face. The one closest to her shoved himself against her cheek, the tip prodded her skin, his seed already leaking from the tip smearing it onto her cheek,

"Suck it b*tch," for a brief second, the navigator debated the possibility of escaping her fate before her jaw was forcefully wretched open and she gagged as the man shoved his cock into her mouth, his hands grasped the back of her head as he pumped himself into her mouth.

Everything burned, her eyes watered as her throat tried to reject him. Her lungs screamed for air and she was force to breathe through her nose.

Do. Not –

Nami let out a warbled screamed as the Captain of the group pulled open her thighs and plunged into her. The idea of him inside her switched her body on flight mode. She began to thrash against the hands gripping her body, her mouth stayed resolutely shut as she continued to fight him. The commander have a harsh grunt of displeasure before his hand struck her cheek and she froze, her lungs burning from the massive effort it took not to burst into tears. He grunted and slid beneath her body forcing his way between her thighs. This time, the navigator couldn't hold back a sharp cry as the man hammered into her, his hipbones smashed against hers bringing a fresh wave of tears in her eyes. She felt a few men withdraw their bruising grip on her and nearly collapsed in relief.

What if the rest of the crew saw her like this? Nami winced at the thought. Luffy would tear the entire city apart with this bare hands, Sanji, the lovesick cook would burn with so much rage that he'd obliterate everything in his path. Robin - Nami shuddered as a guard pushed his member into her body – the beautiful archaeologist would be one of the calmest although her pierce eyes said otherwise as she twisted the necks of her opponents with calm efficiency. Franky and Brooke would be a tank, ripping a path of death and destruction. They'd wipe the last vestiges of the city and turn it to nothing but rubble.

And…Zoro, her breath hitched and her chin began to tremble, dark brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. Would he even be able to look at her the same way? Will her defilement turn him away from her? The revelation struck her with the force of a boulder; he'd never see her as the strong-willed woman who fought with him for two years. Instead, he'd see the broken shell of her. He'd treat her like some porcelain doll; handle her as if she would break any second.

"Com'on b*tch take it! Take it like the whore you are!" Nami felt her body give a last shudder before it gave in to the invasion, taking it to prevent any more damage. The Captain had released her from his assault, his seed mixed with the other guard's essences as they spilled onto the cobbled stone. Groans of pleasure filled the air as each of the men reached their peak before they collapsed around her in exhaustion. Between bleary eyes, she saw something red recede from each of their faces and the excruciating throbbing returned twofold.

This was a living nightmare, she closed her eyes when she heard Chopper scream and her head was suddenly pushed into the open. At her name, her head automatically turned to the sound and she saw her nakama kneeling on the ground, staring at straight at her, raging fury in their eyes as they were forced to watch.

This was wrong, Chopper was too young to see this. A measure of strength welled in her aching body and Nami tucked her bottom lip back into her mouth, biting down with renewed vengeance; for her nakama, she would not scream, for her nakama…

She would do anything.

She would be strong, even as her betraying tears fell down her face, she would be strong.

"Why won't you cry some more b*tch? Huh? What will it take to make you cry some more?" her head was grabbed once more, thick fingers squeezing, branding into her scalp and she felt the ground rush toward her as her cheek smashed onto the ground.

I. Am. Strong.

Her head was airborne for a second before the hand smacked her face down once more. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, biting, biting so hard until she broke skin. Blood ran free down her chin, dripping into the ground as her face slapped against the ground, pulling back only to have her face streaked with a mixture of blood and dirt.

I. Must. Be. Strong. Chopper's cries reverberated in her ears, pushing past the moans surrounding her as the men shoved her body to the ground, her thighs were pushed open and four fingers forced themselves into her body, grunting with sickening pleasure as they fingered her. Nami shut her eyes as she took in another soldier's cock, her stomach churned and threatened to purge. The tears streaming down the youngest crew member's face had her fighting now to burst into a fit of tears; the little boy needed to see her strong, her precious nakama needed the reassurance that she could go through the ordeal with her head held high.

Nami allowed her gaze to linger onto the doctors before she closed her eyes when a hand grabbed her shoulder pulling her back in. Because of them, she would go through hell and back to protect them. They had fought for her and alongside her when she needed help. They were always there when she needed them most. While the term 'weak trio' had a negative connotation, it was a dear word to her. To her, it was a promise of unbreakable friendship.

I. Must….there was a hoarse yell and something fell a few inches from her face before it exploded into a cloud of gas,

"Ussop…" was her last thought before her eyes slipped shut and she knew no more.

* * *

"CHOPPER DON'T LOOK!" The reindeer could barely hear Ussop's yelling over the buzzing in his ears as he watched in traumatized horror as the rest of the soldiers fell on Nami. Beside him, Ussop began fighting against his captive and he was aware of the sniper struggling to free his arms,

"FOR GODSAKE COVER HIS EYES! HE'S ONLY A KID!" Ussop's shout wretched the doctor from his haze as he gazed at the men in front of him with helpless fury.

Two men grabbed her from behind, pulling her body to them as they pounded her from behind. Three got on their knees to watch, their hands roaming and groping, mouths laving over her pale skin while someone had her face wretched toward his…

"NAMIIIIIIII!" he began to cry, screaming as thick tears rolled down his fur-covered cheeks. Chopper kicked at the man restraining his arms and only to sag back to the ground; the sea stone cuffs were weighing on him. In the midst of the tumble of naked arms and legs, he saw his nakama's head thrust out from the group, her head automatically rolled to face him and he was shocked to see her expression turn to stone. Stray tears seeped down her cheeks, flashing shining brown eyes blazing in pain and dull anger. She had her bottom lip between her teeth, biting so that she wouldn't make a sound.

The commander of the group had his large body beneath her, his hips jerked and there were several loud groans as they came. The smell of sweat burned his nose and stung his eyes as a wave of nausea overwhelmed his senses. Grunts and moans filled the air and he felt the man holding him prisoner tremble…

Chopper watched as Nami's long hair give a jerk and she was yanked back into the group only to appear again as one of the men roughly pushed her cheek to the dirt. Chopper screeched again when he saw her open her mouth and bite down on her lip.

"STOP IT!" he thrashed again when he saw blood dribble down her chin as she bit down even harder, her eyes squeezed shut as her head was lifted and smashed to the ground again. There was a scuffle next to him followed by a choked cry as Ussop managed to free his arms and lash his foot to the man's crotch.

"Chopper!" Ussop ducked past the guard's swing and snatched his slingshot from the floor jabbing the end on the man's vitals. Within seconds, the sniper had the keys in his hands and was already unlocking the doctor's cuffs, pushing the reindeer to a stand. Chopper stumbled forward and toppled over to throw up.

"BAKUSUI BOSHI!" a pellet flew in the air toward the group of guards and exploded into a spread of gas that immediately had the men crumbling to their knees. "Come on Chopper! We need to get Nami!" The doctor was still heaving as he sucked in another breath before giving a wobbly nod of his head. Another tremble and the devil fruit user altered his body into his human form. Holding their breath, they dove into the gas-filled area, staggering back when they found her.

Nami was tangled in a mass of limbs as the duo drag the limp arms and legs out of their way before carefully, tenderly lifting her and cradling her into Chopper's large body. Without another word, they turned and ran only pausing so that Ussop could grab the navigator's Clima-Tact. Their feet slapped the flat stones as they continued to run before they turned into a deserted alley and stopped,

"Hold on, she needs something to cover her up," Ussop quickly unstrapped his shoulder-belt and pulled off his shirt, cautiously maneuvering Nami's arms so that he could settle his shirt over her body. Nausea threatened to rise and Ussop turned and pressed his forehead against the wall to breathe.

"U-us-sop-p-u…i-i-i-i-i-is N-nam-mi g-g-g-g-g-o-o-o-oing-g t-to b-b-e o-ok-kay-y?" The sniper swallowed his own tears before looking up into the miserable tears of the fifteen year old who was holding onto the navigator like his life depended on it.

"I don't know Chopper," he said softly, his hand reached out to touch Nami's bruised arm, "I don't know." Tears pricked his eyes and his throat burned as the sniper swiped at his eyes and turned…

"Ussop?" the faint whisper of his name sounded like the blare of a foghorn and the man spun around with a yell and his eyes bugged out when he saw Nami open her eyes and blink,

"NAMIIIII!" it was a thundering cry of relief and joy as the duo lowered their heads to greet her. Chopper was a mess of tears and snot dripping from his nose and Ussop had a hard time fighting the onslaught of tears tumbling down his cheeks,

"N-need, Clima…" her arm went up only to fall in faint as the navigator's head lolled against the doctor's arm,

"You're looking for your Clima-Tact? It's right here," the sniper quickly pulled out his crewmates' beloved weapon of choice and gently folded her hands over the staff. He watched as Nami gripped her staff, pulling it slightly towards her body before she gave him a weak smile and a mouth of thanks.

Ussop marched toward the ship, his mouth set in a firm line and he clenched his teeth when the tears began to flow as he followed Chopper up the ramp and into the Sunny; once Nami was in the ship, the Strawhats would have their revenge, and there wasn't a bone in his body that wasn't ready to go back and tear her enemies apart. The duo had retreated once, now they're coming back, and this time…

They're coming back with reinforcements.

"Rest Nami. My eight thousand men…no…my crewmates and i…we'll take care of this."


	3. Reversed

Zoro felt a bone-shaking thud echo behind him, his hand immediately flew to the handles of his swords and he spun around to block the heavy screech of his attacker’s blade,

“Roronoa Zoro!” the man barely had a chance to choke out the swordsman’s name before the poor fellow was promptly spun around and smashed to the ground with an impatient backhanded blow to the head. 

Why was it taking so long to get to the middle of the city? The towering building loomed overhead like a glowing beacon and for some reason; he still couldn’t seem to get any closer to the infrastructure. Aside from the screams echoing around him that were beginning to irritate his ears; his precious crewmate was laying lifeless back in safety of the sunny while he and the majority of his crew wrecked havoc onto the city of Dressrosa.

The citizens, to him, he deemed as innocent.

The fate of the palace guards or any soldiers for that matter; remained an open question. 

Like an enraged beast, he plowed through the waves of steel blades, deflecting any stray bullets trained on him. The stupid flamingo though it would be fun to pin a star or two onto his name along with a reward for his capture making the so-called innocent citizens of Dressrosa more than just collateral damage. He ran up a set of stairs only to curse as his arms rose to block the sharp ends of iron shovels and pickaxes with the blunt edge of his blades,

“Get the chains!” Zoro felt his scarred eye give a twitch in annoyance when a few sneaky bastards managed to wrap thick chains over his ill-begotten foot,

“Got ‘im!” one of them grunted and the swordsman cursed when he felt the chain give a jerk as he tripped on the wooden stairs. “tie him up boys!” Now he was beginning to feel incredibly exasperated; did they really think they had a chance to truss up a 120 million beli pirate? Ha! Not likely. Air sucked into his lungs as he inhaled and with a huge burst of sheer power and strength, curled his wrists over the twin length of chains on opposite ends of his torso and pulled. There was a series of startled shouts and frantic scrambles as the men tried to right themselves only to be thrown over the swordsman’s head.

“What the hell is he?!” one shrieked before he was elbowed off the stairs and out of the way as Zoro thundered his way up the staircase and found himself on the rooftop of the building,

“Where am I?” he muttered and swore he could hear his swords snicker at him; the swordsman had been trailing after that stupid, volcanic-erupting cook and had managed to keep up with the human torch until he suddenly leaped into the air with a yell of, “DIE YOU BASTARDS!” and ‘air-walked’ out of his sight. 

Now it has come to the Strawhat’s attention – saved for maybe their captain – that Zoro was in complete denial of his lack of direction. Maybe because his justification was that they didn’t give better directions, or that they were the ones who was lost. Maybe it was because they lost count how many times he had lost his way in the Sunny and wounded up sleeping in the kitchen rather than the men’s room, or accidentally putting rinsed plates to his left rather than his right resulting in breaking a good amount of plates forcing the disgruntled cook to swap most of their dishware to plastic, the crew even caught him rifling through his drawers once muttering, “wasn’t the beer in here?” Chopper had diagnosed the poor man with directional dyslexia and set out on a long series of conducting experiments in hopes to correct him. Meanwhile, the crew had tried to make sure that someone was glued to the swordsman’s side no matter how much he protested.

In the corner of his eye, he caught the familiar flash of white capes and yellow and orange armour that had him curling his lips in a feral grin and leaping off the three-story building to land with almost catlike grace smack dab in front of a group of Dressrosa sentries on the move. There was a loud yell as the men in the foremost row skidded to a stop, jostling the rest of the bunch as they righted themselves. 

* * * 

Now imagine yourself in one of the soldier’s shoes err…boots. Let’s say you were in the hmm…how about second row left side and right snug in the middle. You’re six feet and you’ve got a nice dark tan with broad shoulders and you’re sporting a gladiator helmet along with your white superhero cape and uniform. So you and your group of 12 are jogging down the street, pushing people aside with your spears while looking to arrest the eight people that have rebelled against your king. All of a sudden, something tall and black lands right in front of the row in front of you and you find your poor nose smashed against someone’s shoulder before you bounce back to your feet. Before your mind can even right itself and curse at the person for hurting your nose, all you can see is this huge, fake mustache and feel something black and soft brush against your arms before your spear is sliced neatly in half and red heat slashes across your chest splitting your armor and cutting into your chest. 

In seconds, you’re joining your brethren in hoards cries of shock and pain as the ground rushes towards you and everything goes black  


* * * 

“You've played the hand that you were dealt, you dug your grave, now lay in it,” Zoro whispered as the swordsman tugged his collar and cracked his neck before sinking once more down beside a soldier in among the fallen who he guessed as the leader of the group,

“Which way is the palace?” he asked and the man managed to turn his head and spit on him,

“Go to hell!” he gasped as he came face to face with the larger than life demon whose captain wrecked havoc in an all out battle for the best. It was a miracle that he didn’t straight up pee in his pants at the monstrosity in front of him. 

Zoro refrained from rolling his good eye; how difficult was it to ask for directions? He was getting a little sick of the banshee screams and batting away weapons and people who were out for his ass. Heck he was even nice enough to use the dull end of his blades on this little groupie with the motive to get some directions and the little bastard couldn’t even stop his teeth from chattering and his tear ducts from leaking. With a sigh, the swordsman bent even lower till his nice mustache - that he secretly enjoyed stroking- was inches away from the captain’s visibly trembling nose; his patience was already dangerously thin and if the man didn’t hurry up and tell him where the palace was, things were going to get bloody,

“Palace,” he growled and the man swallowed once before answering,

“S-straight d-down that a-alley,” he sniffled and gave a little shriek when Zoro let out a frustrated hiss,

“No, no, no you can’t give me directions like that,” he snapped and squatted all the more closer, “you gotta point and tell me to go left or right man,” the captain sniffled once more,

“B-but it’s s-strai-” Zoro snatched his wrist and jerked it in the air,

“LEFT?!” he swung the poor man’s arm to the right nearly popping his shoulder, “OR RIGHT?!” he yanked at his arm the opposite direction indicated. A now completely terrified finger trained to the swordsman’s right and he dropped his arm with a sigh,

“Thank. You.” He stood up and slipped his swords back into his coat before jogging away,

“W-wait,” the guard thought as he watched the man’s back rapidly get smaller,

“Y-your going the wrong way.”


	4. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO ENCOURAGE YOU GUYS TO LISTEN TO THIS SONG WHILE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIhMjPg6D2A
> 
> It's an absolutely beautiful piece that i can imagine Brook playing.

The sound of water dripping into a bowl and a warm, damp cloth gently running over her tender skin had Nami cracking blurry and aching eyes which were thankful for the dim light as she tried to shift her head up to see her surroundings. A cool, bony hand pressed against her shoulder pushing her gently back down,

“Nami-san,” large, fat tears rolled down the Strawhat’s musician hallowed cheeks has Brook did his best to keep his waterfall of tears from splashing onto the navigator’s limp arm,

“Doctor-san! She’s awake!” the empty depths of his eyes seem to glow in delight a he rose to his full height – an impressive 9 ft – his violin seem to leap into his arms as he pulled a soft, soothing melody from the instrument he wielded with the care of lover.

The chairs lie so close,  
We talk all night long,  
This lower room isn't bad  
We understand each other well,  
Just like it always is, this is just our light,  
We drink and sing, we welcome tomorrow  
Just like it always is, under the enormous sky,  
We live together, the night is long,  
The stars don't shine,

“Nami! No Nami! You must stay in bed! Don’t try to get up! You’re going to open your wounds again if you do!” The ship’s doctor immediately shifted into his human form as he quickly maneuvered the navigator’s body back under the covers, 

“Chopper I need to –” Nami collapsed back onto the bed in a coughing fit, gasping as she gritted her teeth against a wave of pain that spike over her body. Her body ached all over and she managed to lift her hands to see the reminiscence of scratch marks and the fading print of fingers branding her arms. Still trembling, the navigator slowly lifted her body to a trembling elbow and tugged the blanket covering her chest. Nami breathed in once and looked. Hand prints further covered her body, bite marks littered her upper torso and she drew the covers back up, breathing hard to hold the feeling of disgust welling up.  


The right side of her face was beginning to throb and the navigator reached up to feel a bandage plastered over the entire side of her face. It was only then when it struck her that she could only see things from her left side.

Bile rose in her throat.

In the corner of her eye, The reindeer scampered over to his desk only to come back with a small needle attached to a tiny bottle filled with an iodine-colored liquid,  


“Give me your arm; I’m going to inject a bit of morphine into your bloodstream to dull the pain,” Chopper reached over to tuck the needle beneath her skin when Nami suddenly gasped and jerked her arm back,

“No! Don’t put anything in me, I-i want to feel the pain,” her vision wavered for a second as she struggled to pull herself together; she’d use this pain to remember that she was still alive, that even if they defiled her to the point where her body was black and blue, she’d recover and bear these scars as a medal of honor...wait a minute, Nami frowned as she accessed the wounds on her arms and tried not to flinch and show her discomfort; she lied, she didn’t want scars marring her body, she already covered one with her tattoo, how was she going to cover the marks that might never fade? Moreover, the area between her thighs had begun to scream in pain indicating just how badly she was injured. Chopper caught the wince and cast a worried glance at her,

“You won’t be able to walk for a few days,” he said softly as he returned to his desk to disassemble the syringe. Nami grimaced and nodded; she couldn’t even lift her body even if she wanted to. The navigator bit back a scream of rage at the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her; she hated feeling powerless, the utter lack of control of her body made her want to rage at the loss of that control. Suddenly, her leg spasmed, sending the navigator buckling forward to grab the injured leg only to realize that her arms weren’t responding to her command. 

The navigator let out a scream from the pain and frustration and the music abruptly cut off as both Brook and Chopper rushed to her, their expressions alarmed,

“Cramp,” she hissed and both doctor and musician heaved a sigh as the reindeer pulled the blanket back from the leg she indicated and worked on massaging the stiffened tendon on her calf. 

“Try not to move too much Nami,” he murmured, “you’ve refused the morphine so you’re body is trying to use the pain to recover,” the navigator clenched and nodded before sagging back with a sigh of relief,

“Thank you,” she whispered

You can't see the moon in this city,  
We looked at the light itself,  
Singing under the starry sea

Another though shot through her mind forcing her to sit up so fast it made her head spin as her vision took another hit,

“Nami!” an exasperated Chopper worked strong fingers into her hair gently but firmly massaging her throbbing temples as Brook settled himself in a corner and continued to draw his bow,  


“Chopper! Did they… you know…when they…” she trailed off weakly as she watched the doctor wipe the sweat on her brow with a wet cloth,  


“You just woke up from a fever. I can’t say that it was possible that all of them completely pulled out. I’ve already collected the evidence from your thighs and processed it so we know who exactly did it.” The sweet little reindeer’s adorable face, for a second, morphed into a frightening expression with curled nose and bared teeth,  


“The captains out for blood, we are all out for blood,” he fisted his hands as he continued to pat her body down,  


“Are you on some sort of birth-control pill Nami?” When the navigator shook her head, the doctor shifted uncomfortably to the side, “how are your cycles?”  
“I got it when I was 15, I know it’s a pretty late for a normal girl but ever since then, my cycles have been highly irregular.” She shrugged and winced, “I never thought too much about it though, I mean, everyone is a little different so…” she regarded the doctor with her good eye,  


“Does that mean-” Nami forced her head down to the blanket covering her stomach in horror; no, it wasn’t possible. A large hand covered the area over her stomach and she looked up to see that the doctor’s face was infuriatingly calm,  


“No that does not mean you’re pregnant,” his tone brooked no argument as he moved back to his desk, “since your cycles are highly irregular, there’s a chance that you’re on an off day meaning there is a lower probability of you getting pregnant.” Chopper turned back with a small, white pill cupped in his large hand, “Just in case, I’m putting you on birth-control to make sure there is an even less chance and help you regulate your cycles.” He stuck a straw into the cup and popped the pill in her mouth, washing down the capsule with water.  


Relief flooded through the woman’s body and her heart slowed down its regular rhythm; she knew she wasn’t completely out of the danger zone yet but if there was a possibility that she was…  


“Robin?” Nami asked and Chopper shook his head, “she refused to stay behind to watch over you,” he couldn’t stop a shiver from running down his fur, “you should’ve seen her face Nami, I’ve never seen her like this before, she was so angry she nearly broke the door down on her way out.”  


“Oh,” Nami felt a small smile tug at her cheeks, “they better pay me back the money I spent for my clothes and the medical costs for what they’ve done.” She leaned back into the pillow with a small sigh as she worked on blurring out the pain, allowing Brook’s music to wash over her,  


Chairs so close and room so small  
You and I talk all the night long  
Meager this space but serves us so well  
We comrades have stories to tell  
And it's always like that in the evening time  
We drink and we sing when our fighting is done  
And it's always so we live under the burnt clouds  


Beyond the safety of the ship, a chaotic mess of screams and thundering rumbles of buildings and foundations collapsing convoyed by a familiar roar that reverberated around the entire city of Dressrosa. Nami felt something inside her settle as she made herself more comfortable in the bed. Another earth-shaking bellow accompanied by a chorus of frantic screams had her grinning like an idiot,  


“That’s my captain,” she thought blearily as she once more tuned her ears to Brook’s music,  


Ease our burden, long is the nightt Just as no stars can be seen  
We are stars and we'll beam on our town  
We must all gather as one  
Sing with hope and the fear will be gone.  


She was going to be fine, she was going to heal from her wounds and come back all the more stronger, yes there was a part of her that would always and forever be weary around men, but she’d be fine, she was going to be just fine. Nami tucked her nose beneath the covers and inhaled the scent of lemons; she didn’t know how she was going to react around him. Her body would never forget the abuse it took and she cursed at the possibility of her relationship with him. How would he cope with the idea that she had been violated by more than one man? How would she feel if he tried to touch her? Nami swallowed hard and tears on the verge of spilling over; can she do it? Can she really completely heal from the inside?  


Could he heal her? Would he be able to understand? The man didn’t have much of a grasp on women in general, let alone understand how to act around an assaulted woman. The navigator closed her eyes and quickly wiped the first glimpse of tears away from her cheek, her left eye narrowed and the right section of her face twitched in response; she’d pull herself together, for him and her crew, she’d do her damnest.  


We must all gather as one  
Sing with hope and the fear will be gone.


	5. Realize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Zoro's thickheadedness is saved by a certain blonde cook.

Chopper quietly shut the door muting Brook's playing as he made his way back to his office. Inside, he set to work, pulling out the DNA Monitor that held the slide samples filled with the perpetrator's body fluids. The next few minutes were filled with the sound of fingers flying over the keyboard as the doctor processed, filed and shelved the information that sprung across the desktop screen, his fingers tapping impatiently on the counter as he waited for the pictures to come up.

He was old enough to know what assault meant, but he was definitely not ready to visually experience it. The poor reindeer was entirely shaken from the ordeal he had witnessed, and it had taken all the courage in his little body to shake himself out of it and focus on the person who needed his full attention.

"Hurry, hurry," he muttered and gave a sigh of relief when the desired pictures began popping up. Twelve clear photos containing each of the guard's names, DOB, occupation and blood-types outlined the images now stacked in a safe bundle in the doctor's arms. His blue-nose twitched and flared as he took deep breaths in calm himself down from the sudden flash of anger that shot up in his throat. Even though he longed to join his nakamas in dishing out revenge for violating his navigator, treating his patient came first. He was a doctor. That meant taking care of Nami came first and foremost, she was his top priority.

In truth, Chopper was unsure of the chances of Nami becoming pregnant. After all, it took time and equipment which he did not possess. Of all things he had brought with him, the doctor did not foreshadow any of this happening to his crewmates. He had rape kits stocked to help women outside of the Strawhats and so the fact that the assault happened to Nami had blown him completely off kilter. In any case, he was more than ready to do his best to make sure the chances were slim to none. At the moment, all he could do was monitor the navigator's body and record and follow her progress. What he was more worried about was how she was going to recover from all this. The doctor had no doubts that Nami was a strong woman. However, he knew enough about rape victims to know that working her way to recovery was a delicate and careful process that required proper treatment from the crew in aiding the woman in repairing her mental and physical barriers. Chopper knew from Nami's aggravated scream that she was angry for the lack of control over herself. She wouldn't accept pity from anyone and he knew from her aggressive personality that she would rather lash out than cower in order to hide her fear.

The doctor shook his head; it was his job to help her recover, and he'd make sure she was in tip top shape.

Now that she was resting and her vitals and health were secure, he was allowed to let his monster out of the cage. After a quick word with Brook and a promise to be back, Chopper practically flew out of the ship, photos tucked in his mouth as he galloped toward the falling city.

Dressrosa would burn; he'd make sure of it.

Inside, the all-consuming pandemonium rang around his sensitive ears. Long, lean legs bunched themselves up into a half crouch before springing with the grace and steadiness of a mountain ram onto the roof of a dwelling. Chopper scanned his surroundings, his furry brows pulled together as he swept his gaze over the tops of the roofs before landing onto the reason for his anger; the main palace.

Revenge. He nosed his way into his pouch, dropping the stack of photos for a moment to grasp a yellow ball the size of a quarter between his teeth. Destruction. His teeth closed over the ball, applying pressure, strong jaws clamped tightly together pressing down even harder till the ball broke apart with an audible crack. The pieces of the medicine worked its way down his throat as it disintegrated, enlarging his innards, expanding his lungs, lengthening his muzzle, his limbs and torso. He barely managed to carefully snag the photos before his body shot up into the clouds, the enormous weight of his bulk immediately crushing the building.

With a deafening bellow that shook the heavens, the doctor leaped down to the ground, minding the citizens beneath his hefty feet,

"DOFLAMINGO!" was the rallying roar as he began to storm his way to the building; oh he was going to make sure the palace guards got a taste of their own medicine, but he knew who was the real mastermind behind everything. The pink, fleshy thing sitting smugly on his throne was going to pay for it.

As Chopper stated before; the only reason he allowed his most feared beast out of its cage, was that he was becoming a beast for the sake of the people who had become the reason and the dream he'd now happily stake his life on.

If he was going to become a monster, then he'd make damn sure he'd be the scariest monster Dressrosa had ever seen.

* * *

"F*CK YOU BASTARDS!" A mad whirlwind of flames and red hot patent soles punched through the toy's hard armor burning through the inanimate object as it clattered to the ground in blackened pieces. A huge yell swept through the crowded streets as a cloud of the city's soldiers raced for the enraged cook, their spears glinted off the sunlight and the flames.

"AAAAHHHH!" the man was burning, flames licked over his black suit, flipping the ends of his hair up revealing both curled eyebrows that too burst into flames.

"I'LL BURN ALL OF YOU SHITHEADS AND SAUTE YOUR F*CKING INNARDS AND STUFF THEM UP YOUR ASS!" the cook was too angry to even care if his threat made any sense as he shot up like a bullet into the sky, his right shin shone and smoked to a blistering hot flame before he aimed down at the group below and lashed out. The air in front of him sizzled as the chef flew into a kicking frenzy, his legs struck out with the speed and strength of a machine gun, stabbing straight into their bodies, burning away both clothes and flesh. A chorus of screams rented the air; the smell of burnt flesh scorched the atmosphere as the armed forces fell to the ground clutching the places where his foot struck,

"H-he's a freakin monster!" one gasped as he struggled to get back to his feet,

"WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO GET UP!?" The heel of a leather shoe smashed onto his temple, burning the area around his unprotected skin and the man instantly collapsed to the floor unconscious.

"Call for back-up!" another one shrieked when his cape caught on fire and he was sent rolling down the street in the form of a flaming ball.

"YOU TOUCHED HER YOU LITTLE SHITS!" The Strawhat's cook was a stomping-mad human torch that lighted up the inner parts of Dressrosa. Sanji chomped down even harder on the end of his cigarette as he leaped back to the clouds rearing his leg back as he made his way over to the palace; the bastards were working for the one man who lived long past his expiration date. The blonde had felt that all-consuming rage that fueled the already simmering fire in his body as he watched with poorly contained fury as Ussop and Chopper carried his most respected, most loved, most desired, precious and beautiful navigator into the doctor's office. Now that his dear Nami-swan had been forcefully dragged into the fray, his anger had reached volcanic levels on the verge of exploding as –

Why. The F*ck. Now?

"OI! YOU STUPID SHIT FOR BRAINS MARIMO! WHERE THE F*CK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" Sanji dug his heels into the roof tiles as he stared down in comical disbelief as the swordsmen sped below him. Zoro skidded to a stop in surprise and he looked around for the one who called his name.

Emerald green eyes clashed with sapphire blue and a completely different kind of fire burned between them.

"Oi, shitty marimo," Sanji growled as he bent even further down to shoot the swordsman a blistering glare, "I asked you where the hell do you think you're going?" Zoro looked completely affronted as he jerked his thumb the opposite direction of the palace,

"What do you think Nosebleed? I'm going to the f*cking palace!" he growled as he gave the cook his back and continued running down the street. Sanji heaved a long-suffering sigh, the flames fanning a bit as he pulled out his lighter to place the tip of the flame beneath the end of his cigarette,

"Doflamingo is the other way," he sighed, watching with mild amusement as the swordsman gave a little jerk before he stiffly turned around and headed back the way he came from,

"I knew that," he snapped, "If you hadn't gotten us lost we might've gotten there already!" A vein popped up above the chef's nicely drawn brows as he leapt over onto another house while keeping pace with the swordsman,

"What the hell are you blabbering about?" He hissed as he swerved to avoid a jutted chimney, "Me? Lost? Ha! That's rich coming from someone who gets lost on a straight f*cking road! You wouldn't have even managed to even set foot into Dressrosa if it wasn't for me!" And it was true; as soon as the crew had stormed off the ship, the swordsman had only kept up with the group till they split up on Luffy's orders. When the split was initiated, he had somehow, managed to make his way around half of the island before looping back to the ship. It took a great deal of cursing and scuffling between cook and swordsman till Sanji kicked the man's directionless ass onto the front steps of Dressrosa.

"I meant exactly what I said dumbass! Who was the one who decided that it would be fun to run over and kick a group of soldiers for shits and giggles?! You could've just ignored them and kept going!" Zoro's fingers were sliding his swords out of their sheaths and the cook knew just how badly the man wanted to hurt him because he was feeling the same damn thing,

"They all deserve to be hung by their intestines! They harmed our nakama! No! They did more than just that! They f*cked her up! They f*cked her up physically, mentally and emotionally!" The chef stopped to look at the swordsman dead in the eye, "She's hurting marimo, doesn't that mean anything to you at all?"

When the appropriate response never came, Sanji all but flung his cigarette at the fool; did he not feel what any man should feel when his woman was beaten? Out of all the Strawhats, he was the one who should be gunning for revenge! It royally pissed the chef off when he discovered that Zoro was chasing after the person he not only saw as a woman who should be treated as a queen of the highest authority, but also as a woman who needed a man who could understand her needs and concerns. Zoro was none of that and that's what irritated the cook the most. The caveman was brash and had little to no interest in women. Sanji didn't know the man's history with women but if anything; the idiot did not check any of his queen's boyfriend-to-be categories. What infuriated Sanji the most however was that even if the mosshead didn't fit into the Nami's mold, Zoro was somehow, winning navigator's affections.

The chef had watched with careful eyes how the marimo gradually shifted his attention to the beautiful and headstrong woman. It had begun with casual glances from the swordsman; he always seem to follow her with his eyes as if to make sure that she was still there. From their reunion at the Sabaody Archipelago; Zoro had kept a cool distance from the navigator, but when he thought no one was looking, his head would swivel slightly to her direction and he would cast his gaze over her form for a moment before turning back to whatever he was doing. Even during their trip down to Fishman Island, Sanji had overhead Ussop recalling the part when they were shoved into a cage, the destruction of the Ryuuguu Palace and Zoro's unusual rage at their imprisonment. Finally, the adventure at Punk Hazard when Sanji had nearly bled-out in happiness when he had the opportunity to swap bodies with Nami. The nail drove closer to home when the cook caught the murderous glare in the Zoro's eyes when he lovingly grasped his…er her breasts and the swordsman tried to cover it up with irritation. Gradually, Sanji caught more than just the swift, fleeting glances as Zoro slowly began to spend more than five second conversations with the navigator. Some nights, he found the two standing on the deck, drinks in hand and doing nothing but simply talk for the rest of the night.

To the chef's surprise, he didn't feel that jealous anger that he thought he should be feeling when Nami didn't humor him as much as she use to when he fawned over her and Robin. The historian had no doubt sniffed out the growing bond between swordsman and navigator and simply touched her finger to her lips, a secretive smile on her face. Being the gentlemen and an all-natural ladies man, Sanji made sure he got a kick out of the marimo's barely reigned anger whenever he flirted outrageously with the navigator; he had decided one night to ante up the flirting and began making sure that he was glued to Nami's side at all times and playing the perfect butler/potential boyfriend to the letter.

The nail finally hit home when one day, there was a loud thump followed by a loud shriek that was abruptly cut off behind the kitchen wall where the cook was washing dishes. Thinking one of the women were in danger, Sanji flew out of the scullery, a wet plate in hand, and darted behind the navigator's orange trees. He skidded to a stop with a "NAMI-SWAN!" only to stop dead.

There, in front of his eyes was his lovely navigator in a heavy lip-lock with the swordsman. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised but he was when the plate in his hand slipped onto the wooden deck with a loud clatter snapping the two from each other. Nami was completely flushed in the face, her eyes were wide and her mouth formed an O before she shoved Zoro aside and ducked her head, slipping past the stunned cook and darted down the stairs. A slam from below indicated where she went.

Okay so he accidently cock-blocked them, so what? The look on the swordsman's face said otherwise. Sanji rose a brow and shot the man a shit-eating grin,

"Sucks for you," he chuckled,

The reaction came with a loud snarl before a heavy body landed on top of him, slamming him to the ground. They fought, kicking and punching and cursing till one of Nami's precious orange trees got knocked to the ground and the navigator was storming back up, throwing a flurry of punches at their faces before dragging them back down by the backs of their shirts.

So you can understand why to Sanji's ultimate horror, that not only was the stupid marimo winning, he actually got her. Nami, the woman he could see himself serving delectable drinks and delicacies and loving and caring for the rest of his life. "Do you not care for her at all?" when a reply never came, Sanji inhaled once more on his cigarette before he yanked it from his lips and hurled it at the swordsman, "you ungrateful bastard!" he sneered, " I remember that smirk you threw at me when she finally said yes. You had that Veni, vidi, vici look on your face that made me want to shove my foot up your ass." He let the smoke blow past his face as he dropped to the ground and marched over to stand face to face with the swordsman who had gone completely silent.

Without any preamble, the chef grabbed his crewmate by his lapels and jerked him closer,

"She loves you, puts up with your bullshit and now she's hurt. And this is your reaction?" Sanji jabbed his index at the man's chest, punctuating each word with a stab of his finger, "You. Are. A. F*cking. Bastard." He paused, his gaze searching as he stared into Zoro's jaded orbs trying to read his nakama's train of thought.

All he found was a pair of narrowed eyebrows, a mighty frown on his mouth and sharp green eyes that stared unflinchingly back up at him. With a sigh, Sanji released his hold and pulled back, disappointment clouding his expression,

"Never mind, let's go," he muttered and turned around only to feel a heavy hand clamp over his shoulder halting his movements.

Anyone who knew the cook would have expected him to turn around and snap at his rival for even touching him but this time, Sanji waited; he knew he had hit a nerve.

There was a few seconds of silence before the swordsman finally spoke,

"I am a bastard." Zoro's answer had the chef suppressing a smile; so the man finally admitted it.

"I'm a bastard," he continued, "but i- I-"

"You're what," the cook snapped; he wasn't surprised that the tough man was tripping over his words; it wasn't everyday when you heard Zoro spout his feelings,

"I'm a glutton for punishment," pain overlaid the steel in his tone and Sanji made an attempt to face him only to be halted by the man's tight grip on his shoulder, "I'm on edge because I cannot face her after what happened to her. I-" there was a break in his voice and the cook froze; was he crying?

"O-oi, oi, marimo I get it, you –"

"You do not know how f*cking helpless I feel right now." Thick fingers dug into the cook's shoulder as Zoro made an effort to collect himself, "She's in my head cook, every second I'm not with her, I'm-" there was another catch to his voice and Sanji held his breath, flinching when Zoro spun him around allowing him to see the wild green eyes of a madman,

"Every time I'm away from her, I can. Not. F*cking. Breathe." Whatever Sanji wanted to say next flew out of his head as he blinked; the swordsman was rage and fear personified, his already angry brows were drawn in a tight V, and the depths of his jaded orbs flashed a homicidal green. The chef lowered his gaze to the man's strong jaws and saw a hint of a tremble between firmly gritted teeth,

"You love her," he summed up the man's words and watched the proud swordsman visibly crumble in front of him. Zoro gave a stiff jerk of his head, acknowledging his statement and in that brief moment, he didn't look like the crazed and dangerous demon that the marines coined him as. Instead, he looked like a man at a loss of what to feel when the woman he loved had been assaulted.

"You're still thinking about the value of revenge," Sanji pulled out another cigarette, rolling the stick between his lips as the swordsman straightened his shoulders and glared at him in the eye, some of the former fire coming back into his eyes,

"I could never stoop so low as to…" Zoro's good eye widened slightly as he faltered and let that sentence trail off before whispering, "I told myself that this once, just this once will I bring myself to this detestable level of hate." Sanji cupped the small flame he had flicked from his lighter, burning the tip of his stick before pulling it from his lips and blowing the smoke onto his friend's face,

"You're really a stupid marimo after all," he sighed. The cords on the swordsman's neck bulged out and the man reached for his swords ready to rehash their previous argument, "Is revenge for someone you love so wrong?" Sanji tilted his head to let the smoke blow past his lips and curl into the air and stuck it back into his mouth before leaning back in, "What you should be worrying about more is how to approach her in the future. We all know that it'll take a long time to help her lower her guards." With that, the chef inhaled once before he remembered his forgotten objective,

"Now what the hell are we still doing here?!" flames licked along the cook's suit as the familiar anger overwhelmed him and he leaped into the air,

"Look what you've done shitty marimo! We're supposed to meet Chopper at the palace and kick ass! Not have tea time!" Sanji muttered another expletive as he shot around a bend,

"It's not my fault!" Zoro snapped, "You wouldn't stop talking!"

"You stupid-"

And the arguing continues…


	6. Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which the Flamingo is challenged

Doflamingo examined the smooth edges of his fingernails as he slouched against his throne; he was right to put that fluffy padding on the throne seat, it made his ass a very happy ass. And the throne, well…it wasn't exactly a throne, more like a huge and long fluffy couch. Nevertheless, he was right to take it from the spa he had stayed in.

Overall, he was a bored man, a man who was tired of watching the live feed of the citizens of Dressrosa screaming their heads off, although he did get a kick out of seeing the despair and destruction he and his henchmen were causing; it was the most fun he had in years and he was going to make sure he enjoyed it to the fullest.

The Shichibukai's permanent, shit-eating grin on his face lighted up when something from the feed caught his eye and he watched as the two people who had become the source of his amusement come thundering up to the front gate.

"Heh heh hehe, they're finally here," he smiled as Trebol slithered his body around the couch, a slippery smile on his folded lips. Anyone else who saw the monstrosity of the snot dangling and flying from the executive's nostrils would be immediately repulsed, Doffy, however, simply tilted his head to his fist just as a strand of snot flew over his head.

"They're just in time for tea young master," The man snickered as he watched a hand shoot up into the air before it slammed down to the ground, slide back a few inches and grasped onto one of the jagged edges of the building. For the heck of it, the Shichibukai flicked his fingers and two thick locks of strings shot out of his fingertips curling around the hand that was gripping onto the building,

"The tea isn't ready, come back later," he gave the strings a small tug and grinned as the hand gripping onto the building lost its hold and there was an audible yell followed along with an enraged roar of, "I'LL KILL YOU STRAWHAT-YA!" before there was the sound of two bodies hitting the ground. Trebol threw his head back cackling,

"That was brilliant Doffy!" he exclaimed and Doflamingo chuckled; how he loved screwing around with people, it was his preferred form of entertainment.

"I don't think they want to wait for the tea to heat up," his mouth turned down slightly when the 400 million beri pirate's hand shot back up again. The Shichibukai tapped out with his strings once more only to have the hand whip out and curl around his strings,

"Fu fu," he laughed as the captain's hand used his strings as a lever to rocket himself and the man he once called family onto the top of the palace. The paramecia lifted his hands and gave the duo a slow applause; "the two of you are impatient as always," his grin widened as he relaxed back into his seat and crossed his leg,

"Since you're obviously not here for tea, I might as well ask you; why are you here?" as if the answer wasn't obvious enough, the fist flying towards his face definitely was,

"To kick your ass!" the former celestial dragon sniggered, the tip of his index, middle and ring curved into a slight hook effectively blocking the punch,

"Whose ass are you planning to kick?" he grinned and lifted his head to face the very man who intrigued him ever since the event of Crocodile's downfall in Alabasta.

Perhaps he'd get to play a bit after all.

* * *

The terms, rage, anger and fury were too tame a word to describe the captain of the Strawhat's current emotions. The man was practically vibrating with the darkest levels of nothing but the burning flame that draped over his body like a second skin. He had lashed out to take a bit of the edge off his fury but the Heart doctor only fanned the flames when he urged him to stick to the plan, the damn plan that he was never going to stick with in the first place!

There he sat, with that mocking grin on his face, the nonchalant way he loosen up in his seat made Luffy itch to rip the settee apart with his bare hands. He didn't care if the flamingo didn't play a part in his navigator's assault, that fact that he simply sat there and did absolutely nothing about it was what infuriated him the most. Luffy's bare hands clenched on nothing; he had ignored the pictures that Chopper had passed out, his anger fixated on the one person who was currently sitting in front of him.

The Strawhats captain blamed the flamingo for everything. He was the cause of his beloved nakama's grief; he was the one responsible for the Dressrosa's demise, he was the one who should be paying for everything that had befallen in the city.

"Doflamingo." The Shichibukai's name didn't come out as a challenge; it didn't even come out as a threat. No, the man's name was spoken as a personal vendetta laced with a promise informing the man that he had signed his death warrant. At the captain's warning tone, Doflamingo raised a brow, his attitude skeptic,

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" it was clear that he was laughing at them, yet there was no movement of laughter on his face. Luffy growled, a low sound that seem to shake the entire building as he leaped at the Shichibukai, his head tilted back, arms stretched at an abnormal angle before the super nova shot forward with a wild scream just as Trafalgar Law simultaneously clashed with the former celestial's clone and twisted his fingers murmuring, "Room." The space around the four seem to shrink in size and for a short second, the pink flamingo felt the briefest moments of something close to alarm before the dark figure hurtling at anomalous speed towards him rammed him straight in the stomach,

"RED HAWK!" the force blew the Shichibukai straight out his seat, sending him toppling unceremoniously to the ground. A shock ran up and out of Doflamingo's chest, stuttering his heart. Blood welled up his throat and he coughed it out.

"How was that?!" Luffy panted, his body was a tensely coiled spring ready to strike. The King of Dressrosa cocked his head as he wiped spittles of blood from his bottom lip and spat out the rest.

* * *

The bastard had managed to hit him; not bad, the Shichibukai pursed his lips in disgust at the smidgen of his blood on the ground,

"Little brat." He sneered only to turn his head to see his executive in danger of being spliced apart by Law's blade; Trafalgar Law, the man who went from a child dying of poison, to becoming one of the reasons for his rare forms of incurred wrath. The former adolescent had denied him of his much-desired immortality and had taken it upon himself to seek vengeance for Corazon; the brother the Shichibukai had murdered with his own hands.

With Haki imbued on his leg, the paramecia shot towards the two men and slid his leg beneath the end of the Heart Captain's blade effectively blocking him from sending the cutting blow.

"Doflamingo!" Law snarled and his eyes snapped down in surprise when slime wrapped around his legs pinning him to ground, "Trebol! I'll-"

"Full Bright!" pleasure sparked down in waves and the damning grin plastered itself back onto the celestial's face as he pulled his arms back, fingers splayed out and four thick, sharp lines of threaded steel shot down from the heavens and punctured the man's back flinging him away from his executive. His sharp ears caught the muted tones of alarm and pitched anger as the Strawhat Captain shouted his ally's name,

"You're next Strawhat." Doflamingo twisted his long body, his tall stature giving him leverage as he swung his Haki imbued leg at the dark-haired man only to shift his posture at the last second and slam his foot into the Luffy's cheek,

"To bite the hand that feeds you," The Tenryuubito turned and advance toward Law, "You know what I hate the most? Law?!" He went closer, "Do you?!" His foot lifted high in the air and he brought it down, smashing it onto his former subordinate's back, "It's being looked down upon!" He swung his hand down, strings attached to his fingers as he aimed it for the Shichibukai's neck,

"Octapus stamp!" an elongated foot slipped in between as leather sandals pushed against his strings forcing him back just as a giant-size dark fist punched at him,

"Stop playing games with us Doffy!" Luffy screamed as the former Tenryuubito splayed his fingers apart, strings splitting out and attaching themselves into a web effortlessly catching the blow,

"Game? What game? The only game you'll be playing is the one I just made you lose," he watched as Luffy wrapped a hand around his web, using it as a booster as he pulled back and launched himself over the web,

"GATLING HAWK!" the Shichibukai was gone even before the impact of the Strawhat's rampaging fists even touched the ground. In a split second, the king appeared behind him, his head hovered over the rubber-user's shoulder,

"Know your place Mugiwara." Doflamingo's hands crossed and a wave of tightly packed strings rushed at him, "Break white!" the white waves swirled around, encasing the captain in a tight grip,

"Doflamingo!" Luffy shouted as he did his damndest to break free of the strings as he watched the Tenryuubito advance onto the fallen heart captain,

"What do you make of D?" Law asked as he struggled to right himself and he rose to stand in front of the paramecia. Doffy frowned, traces of bewilderment and even scanter hints of panic lingered around the lines of his mouth as he cocked his head at Law,

"What of it?" to his surprise, his answer came out as a harsh growl as he watched Law stagger back onto his feet,

"Today," something flicked over the monarch's head as Doflamingo leaped at Trafalgar, his arm slashing down, missing as Law dodged behind him. "I learned today for the first time…that you were a Tenryuubito." The long end of the Heart Captain's sword punched into the king only to have the raw end of the blade wrapped in Doffy's hand,

"It doesn't concern you!" he hissed as he jerked the blade down dragging Law toward him, "I WILL NOT DIE! You dare claim that I! Someone who possesses the blood of gods can die?! Ha! Ludicrous!" his clawed his hand at Law's face and something akin to fear began to stir in Doflamingo's body as the might of his anger split a gaping cavern in the palace roof, "Be careful not to mistake insecurity and inadequacy for arrogance! Fools like you should be cowering on the ground begging for forgiveness!"

A blade blocked his next swipe, Trafalgar Law's battered face angled up to look him dead in the eye; his expression dark, promising a world of pain,

"I too, am a D." he said and the world came crashing down on the fallen celestial dragon as he lashed out at him with a barely suppressed scream of rage.

"Room!" The entire building was encased in the heart captain's bubble and with a slice of his blade, a potion of the palace was sliced off.

"Tact!" Law's index finger curved down and then flicked to the side as the sliced off portion was lifted into the air and hurled at Doflamingo. Trebol let out a yell as the rampart sped toward them. The Shichibukai lifted his hand and placed it on the very edges of the rampart just as it graced the palm of his hand,

"Spiders web!" there was an ear-splitting crack as the sliced off portion shattered into pieces. In the corner of his eye, Law clenched his hand into a fist and the broken fragments stiffened for a second before they gathered together and sped at the paramecia. In a motion that looked as if he was simply floating above the chaos untouched, the king of Dressrosa chuckled as his arms shot out and snagged the heart captain's outstretched wrist.

"It's laughable how as a surgeon, you have to have a controlled arrogance. If it's uncontrolled, you kill people, but you have to be overwhelmingly conceited to try to stick a hand through my chest and take out my heart." He let the man dangle from his grip, "In an attempt to catch me off-guard, your death was guaranteed!" Power radiated off the Shichibukai as he floated off the ground,

"Everything I do on this planet, until my death. All of it! Was left to me by Corazon!" Law panted as he tried to wretch himself free. Confidence returned and pride oozed back into the Shichibukai's ego as he threw his head back and laughed,

"Ahh how touching!" He grinned as he curled a leg over the shoulder he held arrested, "But unfortunately, what's meant to be will always find a way!" With a powerful kick, Doflamingo sped to the ground, gravity aiding in the rapidly increasing speed, "You dare eat the Ope Ope No Mi and run off?! You dare bare your fangs at me and even if I have beaten fear into you, have the audacity to come and bite me?!" Sunlight glinted off the string he had attached from heel to raised calf,

"JIGSAW!" there was the sickening sound of string sawing into arm breaking through skin and cutting through bone as the duo spiraled headfirst into the ground.

* * *

"TRA-GUY!" Luffy's screams accompanied the hoarse yell of pain from his friend as he flexed his arms against the impenetrable hold of Doflamingo's latest attack. He snarled and pushed;

He couldn't believe his eyes as he watched Chopper and Ussop carry in the one person he put his life and faith on in the treacherous waters of both the Old and the New World. The loss of his beloved brother had already taken a huge chunk of his heart. Now, to see his navigator beaten and broken down, to see the woman who had a special place in his heart, the woman who he was determined to latch onto as his nakama for as long as he lived and breathed.

A little piece of his heart chipped away, the edges curling in, darkening and graying, hardening.

There wasn't the enraged war cry he had let loose the first time he came to her rescue nor was there the panicked expression he wore along with the voice of desperation he had when she fell ill.

Instead, the 400 million bounty captain stood still, so still that not even Garp's ship-sinking cannon could budge him. The entire ship and its crew fell silent as a suffocating wave of Haki nearly overwhelmed the ship, sending its contents shaking and its occupants shifting uneasily in their spot.

It was a few tense seconds before he spoke, and when he did, the air seem to stiffen and the waters still as if in fright,

"Guys." His voice came out low and rough, the hint of a barely suppressed growl tinged the edge, "we're heading out." Gone was the cheery and carefree adventure-obsessed disposition the captain was well-known for. Dark fury replaced his stark features as he smashed the icon that became his nickname onto his head, pushing it down over his eyes as if to hide the turmoil of feelings beneath. Even the Heart Captain had taken a step back and kept a respectful distance from him, his severe expression smoothing out into something akin to sympathy. Every muscle in his lean body stood out sharply, strung tight in preparation for the battle everyone now so eagerly and bloodthirstily waiting for.

The Strawhat usually condoned murder. Every single battle he fought, every strike he made, was to knock the opponent out rather than brutally kill. When asked why, he stated that he preferred that the victim was left to live and wallow in his guilt for his sin and said that it was a more suitable punishment than death.

Now…now he wasn't so sure he couldn't abide by that kind of mercy. Assault, oh the captain knew what it was, he wasn't 'that' stupid as to not completely understand the concept of it. Yes he sometimes mixed up the word assault with 'asphalt' but still… Seeing the results of it though was an entirely different story. Seeing it on his 'nakama,' was too, a different story, and one that came with drastic consequences.

"BIRDCAGE!" What? Luffy felt his jaw drop in shock as something long and black rose into the sky and similar to Doflamingo's spider's web, span out as it expanded and fell over the city of Dressrosa. He watched with a mixture of awe and rage as the strings created a barred prison over the city and its inhabitants, caging them in.

Luffy's struggles renewed with vicious vigor and he set up a steadily building flurry of punches and kicks at the wave wrapped around him. It increased when the Shichibukai turned around to face him,

"Strawhat." His name came out as a sneer of contempt and Doflamingo raised his hands to the sky, "Do you like my masterpiece? Eh? What does it do you wonder? Well how nice of you to ask," the king pivoted on his heel and walked over to his overturned couch, flipped it over, swept away some dust and plopped himself back down, "Trebol my good man, do you mind answering their question?" The said executive chortled as he slunk back to his king's side, "it's, in a sense, Doffy's final execution stage," the sunglasses over the executive's eyes seem to glint in wicked delight in the light, "Before the truth of this country comes to light, Doffy is going to slaughter them all, the people living on his island, you and your crew!" he cackled, "you're lucky that the young master likes games and he's giving you a chance to play, not that you'll win hee hee hee!" The Shichibukai dodged another snot flying for his face, "You see, the 'Birdcage' that surrounds the town right now is, little by little, shrinking and contracting." The mocking smile was back on his face, "think of it as someone slowly closing an umbrella. See? If I do this," his fingers twitched and there was a great creaking of bars as the buildings in the outer rings of the island suddenly spliced into pieces as the bars of the birdcage closed in. Screams from afar reached the palace as Dressrosa writhe in pain, "well, the strong are always strong, the weak are always weak," a chorus of cries answered his statement.

A bellow of rage flew from Luffy's lips; the rage worked itself into a fine maelstrom until it burst out with a roar ripping the vice apart as the captain threw himself at the Shichibukai, his arms pulled back into a balled up fist,

"Gomu-Gomu Noooo!" His answering scream was cut off by a dark figure flashing in front of the Tenryuubito,

"LAW!" the current Shichibukai's name was a roar of ire and shock as the man drove his blade deep into the paramecia's stomach,

"GAMMA KNIFE!"


	7. Rash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Sunny is in a peculiar predicament

Pain like never before sank into Doflamingo's body and he nearly crumbled from the shock; Trafalgar Law! How he became a pain in his side! The fallen Tenryuubito felt blood shoot up his throat and splash past his teeth as his mouth fell open in pain,

"F-f*ck, you got me good," he grunted; it took everything he had not to let his knees touch the ground. In all his arrogance, he cast a glance at his now blood-stained and dirt-tainted couch and nearly had a heart attack; his beautiful couch! The bastard had put a nice, fist size hole into the comforter and ruined the extra padding he had taken from the spa.

He was f*cken god almighty! How dare they f*cken –

"Jet Stamp!" something slammed into his guts shoving him back in a pile of rubble tearing him from his fuming and he landed on his ass once more,

"D-Doffy!" Trebol was a gloppy mess of snot and fear as the executive lifted himself up and flew at the Heart Captain. In those few precious seconds while Law explained his abilities, the king, behind his iconic sunglasses, closed his eyes…

And he began to stitch his pierced innards back together.

It wasn't going to allow him to move as with the dexterity he usually possessed, but it was enough to protect him from the worst attacks. The process was fast; however, it felt like someone decided to ask a five year old to hammer nails into his stomach as the strings looped around his intestines, blocking up the blood flow and colligating around the places that received the most damage. It wasn't exactly like a perfect healing, far from it actually, but it extended his life and bought him precious time.

When the fool had finished his repulsive little speech, the Shichibukai took it upon himself to rise to his feet. He rose like a monster from a child's nightmare, tall and foreboding, the feathers on his coat spread out like wings adding to the monstrosity as he loomed over the fallen captain, a maniacal grin on his lips and a wicked gleam in his eyes,

"Have you finished talking?" Doflamingo, who flawlessly disguised the pain and played the look of someone almost bored to tears, crossed his arms and looked down, "in that case, why don't I end your miserable life now?" The look of defeat on Law's face was priceless as he lifted his leg and brought it down.

It never reached its intended target. Displeasure coursed through the flamingo's body and he lost the cool and collected composure as he glared at the stupid little Strawhat dangling from the man's neck in pure, unadulterated hate,

"Of course." He hissed, "Why don't you join him while I send you both to the pits of hell myself!"

* * *

Franky lumbered with all the speed he could muster toward the Thousand Sunny; the weird bars had stretched all over the city and had landed just past the ports and harbors where he had docked the ship. It hadn't missed his or anyone for that matter's eye when the cage began to close in and the shipwright was forced to switch gears and double back to the ship.

If he didn't somehow move the ship some place safe, the crew wouldn't have the means to travel and he'd lose the ship he put his sweat, blood and tears into building.

Even worse, Girlie was still recovering in the ship; he saw the doctor crashing towards the palace and quickly deduced that Brook was still with her. Something streaked by him and the cyborg leaped back with a curse as a spliced meteorite crash landed a few feet from his person,

"So the cage still stands," a harsh voice boomed across the city as the powerful admiral stepped from his spot between two houses into the dying sunlight. Franky jumped back, his arms cocked forward, weapons immediately trained at the man,

"Crazy Admiral Guy!" he shouted as the man stopped before turning toward the shout,

"A member of the Strawhat," he guessed, "or a citizen?" Fujitora cocked his head at the click of his cannons, "a Strawhat then," he drew his sword and shifted his stance, battle-ready, "young one," he grunted, "In this world of chaos, do you presume that it would be right to do an honorable battle here and now?" Franky cocked his head and stared at him; the man, for his age and his occupation, was being very reasonable and very out of character,

"So you expect me to trust you and lay down my weapons and walk away and expect you to not attack me?" the cyborg snorted and shifted his legs, "sorry buddy, that's suuupppeerrr uncharacteristic of you damn marines." The admiral paused for a second before he nodded,

"No I don't expect you to completely agree," He tightened his grip on his sword, "very well then child, be it here or now justice shall be met. Come." Franky grinned and lunged with a bellow only to pull back when a group of people ran screaming in between them toward the middle of the city. With a sigh that sounded like he was regretful, the man lowered his sword, "call back your weapons and I shall call back mine. There's no need for unnecessary bloodshed," his thick brows furrowed and his eyes squeezed before his expression smoothened out, "There are more pressing matters to attend to," Franky regarded the man's words and weighed the pros and cons; he sure as hell wasn't trusting the admiral not to go back on his words, but the creak of the bars had him choosing the flip side and he shrugged back his cannons and turned around blasting into a run,

"Till next time admiral!" he called over his shoulder as he thundered down the city heading straight for the outer rings of Dressrosa; he had to get to the Sunny, and fast. It was a few minutes before he arrived, out of breath at the edges of the harbor and gave a yell when he saw that the bars were only inches away from his beloved ship; it had already shredded the other boats and marine ships that were docked further ahead.

"OI! SKELETON!" he hollered as he dashed forward and ran up the ramp, "Get the hell over here and control the wheel!" at his bellow, the musician flew from the room and stopped dead, staring up at the sky,

"Franky-san! What! Oh my! What is this! I feel like my eyes are going to fall out of my sockets! But I don't have eyes! Yohohohohohoho!" The shipwright blew past him and headed for the sails, "do me a favor and lower the sails! We need to get the Sunny out of here!" Franky rushed down the basement immediately switching on the thick machine and inserted three barrels of cola,

"READY WHEN YOU ARE BROOK!" He roared through the phone. There was an excited shout of "YOHOHOHOHOHO" and the telling creak of the bars before the cyborg stabilized the ship and pressed the eject button.

"SUUUPPPEERRRR GEERRROMMIINNOO!" He shouted as the ground beneath him shuddered. There was a split second pause before the Sunny let out a roar as the blast lifted the ship into the air and sent it airborne into the sky.

Suddenly, a scream of fright hit his ears,

"We're going too high Franky-san! We're going to hit the bars!" Shit! The shipwright sped out of the basement and onto to the deck in time to see that the Sunny was heading into a headlong collision with the top of the birdcage,

"F*ck!" The cyborg had to think, and fast. His eyes darted around the ship and landed on the floor, "Damnit!" He wasn't entirely convinced of his hastily thought up plan as he scrambled for the ledge, ignoring Brook's screams as he stepped off the fencing and without another thought, threw himself off.

"Strong Right!" his arm shot out and caught the edge as Franky swung himself down and under the Sunny's belly,

"Strong Left!" his left hand flew and snagged the heavy ship anchor.

"FRANKKKYYYYY!" came the warning shriek and the cyborg quit hesitating and hauled ass. The man let out a beastly howl as he jerked the anchor free from its place and with him on it, hurled himself down into nothingness,

"WE'RE HEADING FOR THE OVERGROWN REINDEER!" He bellowed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a ship flies over the moon

bin was in the middle of tossing a few citizens and measly pirates out of her way when a dark shadow fell over her face. She tilted her head up, wondering what it was and her eyes widened in plain shock; very few things could shock the stoic woman but this was one of the things that had her freezing in her spot,

"ROBIN-SEMPAI MAKE ME YOUR SLAVE! I MEAN What is it Robin-sempa- AKAPA!#$%*!T-T-T-THOUSAND S-S-SUNNY BWUHUHUHUH! !$%#!" The fan-boy of all hard core fan-boys Bartolomeo had his head tilted back at a neck breaking angle, a mixture of snot and tears pouring out of his eyes and ringed nose as he gazed in rapture as the ship flew over head, a battle cry of a distant figure clinging onto the…anchor?

* * *

"I keep telling you it's to the right you shitty marimo!" Sanji was ready to tear a new one into the stupid fool when something soared overhead causing him and Zoro to cease their arguments and bend their heads back to see…

"F-FRANKY?!" Behind him, the swordsman was sputtering in shock. A loud and overbearingly familiar YOHOHOHOHO echoed across Dressrosa as they watched in shock as the ship flew over their heads and-

"NAMI –SWAN IS IN THERE!" There was a mad scramble as the duo shot onto the roofs and flew over the buildings, tailing the ship,

"WHEN THEY LAND, AND I HOPE THAT F*CKING ROBOT IS WITH THEM! THERE BETTER NOT BE A F*CKING SCRATCH ON MY QUEEN OR I'M GOING TO BOIL BROOK'S BONES FOR SOUP!" Zoro tossed him an odd look but said nothing as they doubled their speed and headed for the palace shouting for Chopper.

* * *

Ussop slugged his staff into a man's stomach as he darted for the palace; he fervently prayed that he didn't run into anymore-

"There's the five-star God Ussop! After him!" a thunderous rallying cry had the poor sniper screaming in fear as his legs took on a whole new meaning of running. Something overhead caught his head and he looked up and nearly fell on his face mid-run,

"S-Sunny Go?!" He screamed when he saw Franky clinging onto the anchor and he ran even faster,

"O-OI! YOU IDIOTS! NAMI IS IN THERE!" Of course they didn't hear him, but he felt a lot better after shouting that.

* * *

Chopper, still successfully in his Monster form, stopped at the entrance of the palace; he had simply waded through the packed streets – the cage didn't bother him too much since it was taller than he although it did make him a bit claustrophobic – okay maybe he couldn't completely wade through the street; Dressrosa was packed as it was and it was almost impossible for him not to crush a few infrastructures on his way over. He had also been picking off the people, who had been gunning for his head. Chopper stopped at the edge of the palace and squatted down to look around; he didn't see any of his crewmates so he decided to wait. The doctor glanced at the papers in his hands; he was planning to split the twelve papers with his nakamas and have them avenge Nami that way but with the three-minute countdown going on in his head, his time as a giant wasn't going to last much longer.

"REINDEER!" Franky's voice was suspiciously close to his ears and Chopper immediately stood up to look for the shipwright,

"Franky! What are you-EEEEHHHHHH?!" The poor doctor automatically stuck his shaggy arms out - papers momentarily forgotten - waving them in fright as the Sunny hurled toward him,

"CATCH US REINDEER!" Franky hollered and Chopper looked at complete loss for a second before his hands cupped together and he braced himself.

With a shudder, the Thousand Sunny smashed headfirst into the doctor's palms pushing his arms back, causing him to wrap both arms tightly over the ship's body; the Sunny was a lot bigger than he had originally calculated.

"OOMMPH! FRANKY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he shouted as the shipwright leaped off the anchor and ping ponged himself to the ground,

"The bars were getting supa close to the ship," he said as the doctor carefully lowered the Sunny, his face contorted in anger,

"Nami is in the ship you idiot!" He shouted, his deep voice gradually pitching higher as the doctor shrunk back to his normal height.

"Bah! We got here just fine!" the shipwright grunted just as Brook soared out of the ship with a jolly laugh,

"I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest!" he paused and looked down at the empty cavern between his ribs, "ah, I forgot, I don't have a heart, YOHOHOHOHOHO!"

"NAMI-CHWAN!" came the yell followed by an angry burst of flames as the cook and the swordsman raced over. The chef was hopping mad, his expression twisted into some sort of demonic beast as he seem to loom furiously over the cowering musician,

"BROOK! THERE BETTER NOT BE A SCRATCH ON MY PRECIOUS QUEEN!" Flames fluffed up his hair and brows as he darted up the ramp and slammed into the doctor's room,

There was a hysterical scream of, "NAMI-CHWAN WHY ARE YOU ON THE FLOOR?!" and a muffled thump that had Zoro clenching the handles of his swords in alarm before Sanji tumbled out of the door sporting a shiny black eye and a bruised cheek,

"Hai! Nami-chwan! I'll leave you to your beauty sleep!" the cook mumbled between puffy cheeks as he saluted and leaped off the ship landing in front of Chopper,

"Chopper, do you have the files?" even with the chef doing his best to tamp down the flames; the question came out as a hysterical growl. The doctor let the small stack float to the ground before getting on his knees and spreading them out,

"From left to right, Mason Owens, Antonio Bastilla, Levi Rye, Aiden Chuy, Arc Cross, Lore Sun, Pentel Amar, Faylar Bates, Steven Spilburn, Ambrose Canola, Daven Collins and Rafael Serg." He sat back and looked up at each and every one of his crewmates, "we can all choose a guard to fight,"

Robin tapped a finger against her cheek as she inspected each of the posters. The secretive smile she usually wore on her face was gone as she bent to take a closer look at one of them and murmured something before she reached over to finger the third to last poster,

"If you don't mind, I'll be taking this one," slim fingers gripped the edge of the paper before lifting it into the air and tucking it into her pocket. No one questioned the woman's choice, even the cook didn't object to her entering the battlefield for she had every right. They didn't even stop to wonder why she had refused to stay back to look after the navigator; Robin had lived in a shroud of secrecy for most of her wretched life and even now, she only revealed information when it was necessary and beneficial. Otherwise, she kept what she had learned to herself.

The cook didn't hesitate and with a swoop that nearly singed the poor reindeer's ears, nabbed three of the pictures and settled back to read them with the cigarette flicking between his thin lips and an angry scowl on his face.

A hand over his eyes, Ussop lowered himself to the ground and groped and fumbled for a bit before snatching up a poster and sat back, his eyes nearly popped out at the Intel and he reached out to quickly switch when the sheath of Zoro's sword stabbed down in front him. The poor man had tears in his eyes and a depressed nose as he pulled back with a small whimper.

Not to be outdone, the shipwright cradled another three in his metallic hands and shifted back to allow Brook to step in. The musician studied each of the remaining four; his cane hovered for a few seconds over the papers before he slid another two towards his person,

"Doctor-san," he said quietly and Chopper stuck out his hoof to grab one, his dark eyes focused on the swordsman as he pushed the last picture towards him,

"Captain Serg, leader of the Donquixote Guardia," he said softly and nudged the photo closer. In and even softer voice, he whispered, "He's the one who gave the command." There was nothing but heavy silence from the man and judging by his stormy expression as he bent to pick up the poster, he was walking a fine line between sanity and lunacy. It took someone who knew Zoro well to detect the slight tremble of the fingers gripping tightly onto the paper. When he finally drew the paper from his face, there was a homicidal look in his eyes, a vein bulged from his sharp jaw drawing taut over noticeably clenched teeth; retaliation would be swift.


	9. Really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which the time to pray is Nigh

Under the order of the Commander, 24 year old Mason Owens formed a tag team with Bates as they set out at a jog down the streets of Dressrosa. The man had given up his family when his single mother had decided to take his sister and younger brother and leave the city for some unknown reason. As a young man in his late teens, he had chosen to reside in Dressrosa and like many of his fellow mates, join the military. It was only a few years later when his work had caught one of the executive's eye and after two years of some of the most grueling conditioning and countless visits at death's door, Owens had officially made himself a place in the Donquixote Guardia. They were the executive's personal guards, putting their strength and reputation a tier below the executives themselves. As for his physical features, the man didn't think himself too bad looking. He had one of those smooth and angled faces with sharp jaw lines and shaggy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Mason stood at a proud six two with the maroon and gray elite uniform covering his lanky bulk. His eyes, however, didn't match with the rest of his ethnicity.

Mason Owens's eyes were noticeably and undeniably a husky shade of gray tinged with a mixture of blue and black. No doubt to any woman, it might have been beautiful had he not chosen to keep his head lowered and let the stray strands of his hair hide the majority of his eyes behind his long bangs. The shallow knife slashes scattered over the side of his temple didn't seem to help either. In his hands he carried steel-crafted tonfas in which he had infused with haki. Doflamingo and his executives had beaten into all of them the importance of haki, especially Busoshouku, Armament Haki. Out of the twelve, a third of the Donquixote including himself had managed to unlock the dormant ability.

"Tonfa-Boy, we're doubling back to meet up with Canon-Boy in 10," the rough and commanding tone of Bates' voice was like gravel to his ears; the man wasn't entirely unpleasant to listen to, it was just that his dark character had most of his mates widening their stance around him.

"Sure thing," he bit out, the tip of his angular nose twitched as he tried to brush off the nickname. It wasn't that he was insulted by it, it was simply the fact that the man didn't bother to take the three years to get to know him other than the fact that he fought with tonfas.

"Ya coming Tonfa?" Owens resisted clocking said tonfas over his partner's head as he quickened his pace to catch up. He watched as Faylar Bates shuffled through the Strawhat posters in his hand, on his other, a set of brass knuckles twirled along his long fingers as he inspected each of the photos whistling all the while,

"Shit, would you look at that? They've all got f*cken bounties." The man's brass knuckles spun flowed like water over his fingers whilst he roughly shouldered aside the panicked citizen who got in his way. Mason gently nudged a child to the side with his hand as he as he moved; who gave a f*ck if they had bounties? The intruders were destroying his beautiful city! His hands clenched around the smooth handles of his weapon as he kicked his pace up a notch; this was his home! His birthplace! His honor to the king served to strengthen his tie to this city, and they dare insult and challenge him? As they turned a corner, he heard his colleague let out a low whistle of appreciation that had him turning his head to face him,

"Aye Tonfa-Boy! Look at this beauty! Don't she look f*ckable?" The end of Faylar's blunt finger tapped against a picture of one of the Strawhat's crewmembers. Mason's silver eyes took in the fiery-haired splendor posing in front of him. His tongue unconsciously swept over his lips and he forced himself to turn away from the sight; Doflamingo's strict sex ban along with his punishments had made sure he and his fellow elites kept their cocks tucked in their pants. It didn't escape his notice that some of them had been unable to resist and he couldn't blame them; he was the youngest of the Donquixote and that meant his own sexual charge was higher than a f*cking kite. Something niggling in his mind had him tugging back to face the picture and Mason suppressed the urge to trace the woman's lovely face with this fingers, he couldn't help but wonder if, perhaps, he had seen her somewhere before.

"Ahh, we've got a lovely one here," There was an interested gleam in Faylar's dark eyes as he smirked and pulled up a photo of another woman with ink black hair and sharp, mischievous eyes and more angular and matured features. Mason immediately knew his partner had locked onto a new target; oh he wasn't stupid as to think the forceful man would carry out his new fascination, but if Mason knew one thing about Faylar Bates, it was that once his intimidating colleague had set his eyes on his target, he never lost it. Ever.

There was a shout and someone ran headlong in his chest. Although the impact wasn't enough to topple him, it had him pushed a step back. Owen grimaced when something blunt poked his diaphragm and his head bent to look at the person who had fallen back rubbing his nose,

"Ouch! Watch where you're-" The offender had a wild mass of curly black hair pulled back in a tail and a red and white stripped hat with goggles capped over his head. His most distinguishing feature was an incredibly long nose and an interesting cane of some sort strapped to his back. Mason tilted his head; who –

"Oi! He's the five-star Godly Urine or somethin'!" Beside him, Bates had long tossed the posters over his wide shoulders and was already slipping the brass knuckles over his thick fingers as he advanced forward.

Ah, now he remembered,

"It's God Usopp." Owens corrected and sighed; he did feel a bit of remorse for the poor guy who was now openly gawking at his partner,

"Yeah buddy, the metal spikes embedded along his arms and shoulders? It's real," Mason's confirmation had the man's jaw – and nose – sagging down even further,

"T-t-t-t-t-t-tremble o-o-o-on y-y-your k-knees g-g-gentlem-men!" With an effort that had Mason's sympathetic side applauding, the Strawhat had managed on dangerously shaky legs to right himself up and put up a courageous front. Except with Bates looming over the Strawhat, you could see his brave façade visibly crumbling and Mason had to chuckle; how long has it been since anyone other than his mates stood up to him? A hard elbow shoved him to the side as Faylar marched ahead with a wicked smile on his countenance,

"This one's got spunk," he growled, the metal spikes on his knuckles gleamed in the dying light and he gave a loud bellow as he leaped toward the man.

"Let's see if you're still high and mighty after this!"

* * *

He was well and truly f*cked. Usopp trembled from the soles of his mustard yellow boots to the tip of his nose. They were definitely not the people he was suppose to fight; a quick glance down at the paper confirmed it.

He had to stall…somehow,

"W-w-wait!" The inborn flight ability to dodge obstacles had the sniper throwing himself to the side in time to avoid his head smashed from his shoulders as the ape swung and missed. An angry bellow of annoyance sounded and Usopp scrambled back on his ass, his hands stuck out, frantically waving,

"W-w-wait! I-i-I'm not God Usopp!" The giant in front of him paused and the sniper's hands immediately went for his bag; oh where was his mask when he needed it most?

And his lie! The sniper couldn't hold back a wince; it had to be the stupidest and most bogus lie he had ever spoken! Heck even he didn't believe it himself! The large man in front of him tilted his head up, his eyes narrowed and Usopp craned his head back to look too and gulped.

There, blaring and flashing in the air was the screen that Doflamingo had put up displaying the people he wanted apprehended. And right smack dab in the middle was the grand prize; a picture of himself with his nose jutted up like a proud warrior. The sniper inwardly groaned; how the hell did he forget?

The weight of the ape's hard stare was making him sweat bullets, body trembling, Usopp turned his gaze back to the guard to meet the glare of tapered dark orbs,

"Bullshit," the man growled and Usopp sent a fervent prayer to the heavens.


	10. Resistance

They were all over her, their fingers constantly groping, seeking the warm weight of her breasts, sliding their hands along the inner places of her thighs. Their lips were pulled back in condescending sneers as her slim wrists were manacled above her head. The biting words "whore" "slut" and "b*tch" resonated around and around her head as she fought, kicking and screaming in her bonds.

She was strong! She was strong! She couldn't let – the edges of her vision flickered and darkness threatened to pull her down and Nami threw her head back with a scream of rage and fear.

She was afraid, frightened beyond reason as –

With a choked gasp, the navigator wretched herself from the shadows and her lids flew open and she shot up. Pain ratcheted from her sides and she managed to force her limp arms to wrap around her middle.

"I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay," she chanted and began to gently rock herself, refusing to stop even as her head ached and her body burned; Nami was beginning to dread sleep, the nightmares were starting to close around her. With her good eye, the navigator carefully turned her head toward the nearby cabinet, lighting up a bit when she spotted the sleeping pills placed within her reach,

"Thank you Chopper," Slowly, painstakingly; through shallow breaths and labored pants, Nami stretched out her left arm,

"Move," she whispered. Her body groaned in response as she leaned to the side, her fingers gradually straightened and stopped a few millimeters away from the pills; the pain increased.

"Pick up the pills." It was a shaky command, but nevertheless, an order that had her slim fingers obediently closing themselves over a white capsule. Body trembling from the effort, Nami bent even further to close her lips over the straw stuck in a cup nearby and quickly sucked up a mouthful of water. Holding it in her mouth, in the same snail pace, the navigator pulled her arm back and gingerly tilted her chin up to let the tablet drop down her throat before swallowing, water and all.

A relieved sigh escaped her and Nami allowed her body to sag back into the covers; she had been rudely awakened and practically thrown out of her bed when the Sunny gave a rumble and pressure filled her ears and she screamed when she felt the ship give a sudden lurch.

She didn't know what the hell was going on but if anything, she was pissed. They were airborne for a few minutes before there was an abrupt yank and the ship tilted downward. Nami let out a startled scream when the contents that weren't nailed down to the ship – and that meant her- took a tumble and the navigator barely managed to use the pillow she had managed to snag to cushion herself as her body flew into the air and slammed against the door,

"OW!" her body screamed in pain when there was another bone-jarring thud along with the irritating YOHOHOHO of Brook's laugh and she slid to the floor in a crumpled heap,

"I'm going to kill that bastard." The juncture between her thighs throbbed and Nami gritted her teeth against a wave of agony that ripped down the middle of her body. The fool cook even had the nerve to burst in making her shriek and lash out with her leg kicking him square in the face with the strength she didn't know she still possessed.

Now, the Sunny was silent, and although the muffled sounds of screams surrounded the ship – she was surprised that no one had entered the Sunny yet – Then again, she was assured by Franky that they had landed in a zone where no one would dare step foot in since it was in Doflamingo's strike zone. You'd think putting an injured person and your ship in that particular area would be the dumbest idea possible, but when you have a captain who is a few stories away from you and hell bent on kicking said Fallen Celestial's ass to protect you, staying around his vicinity would probably be the best place as a last resort. It definitely wouldn't be the most logical, but comparing to the rest of Dressrosa, it was the safest.

With her body back in bed and her head nestled against the pillow, the navigator exhaled as sleep crept along the edges; tomorrow, tomorrow she'd begin her road to recovery.

* * *

"Not again," the edges of the man's long pants scraped the ground as he quickly holstered his canon over his back and took off in a dead run. He should've known the city of Dressrosa like the back of his hand after more than decade of living here and even then, he still couldn't remember how to get to the farmer's market or even memorize the roads that led to the palace other than familiar landmarks which were now torn down to unrecognizable pieces. The sky was beginning to darken; the rays of the dying light touched the silver strands of his hair as he flew over the crumbled walls and skidded to a stop when he met a dead end.

"Where am I?" Pentel Amar muttered as he reached up with a gloved hand to wipe away a light sheen of oil from his forehead. He wasn't human, not quite. Seventeen years ago, his body had been obliterated by an explosion that took out a third of his upper torso from chest down and ripped off over half of his legs and arms. During that time, there was a well known surgeon in Dressrosa who was also an expert in metal implants who his family immediately sought out for help. When his parents found out the cost of reforming and rebuilding his body…they upped and left him.

He was wrapped in a white tablecloth that was starting to bleed out to the ground and left in the back alley of the surgeon's home. He should've been dead the moment the blast struck his body but somehow, somehow his damn heart still beat. Just like the today's sunset, the surgeon had emerged from his place for a smoke when he nearly stumbled over Amar's torn body.

It was well over six months before his heart restarted and he awoke. When he did, he found himself no longer quite human; Nanocrystalline Alloy and Graphene encased a good sixty percent of his body. There was something resembling a leather gasmask wrapped around the lower half of his face and overlapped his nose along with a thin net of Graphene layered over the top. Thick black goggles framed both of his eyes hiding the now crimson irises he had mysteriously acquired. 28 year old Pentel Amar stood at five eight with slim shoulders and a tapered, steel waist. His once dull brown hair was now colored a glaring shade of silver and streaked with black highlights.

For the next 7 years after his recovery, Amar worked and studied alongside the surgeon. He never called the man by his given name other than Doctor Cyborg until one day, the man vanished from his life and his memory of the doctor flew out the window along with him. Bitter and frozen was his heart when he finally joined Doflamingo's military. The only thing that gave him some reprieve was the fact that when the Celestial took over Dressrosa, he never felt the accusing and frightened stares from the citizens whenever he took a stroll down the streets. The city accepted his distorted and metal form and a semblance of peace now rested over him.

Four years later, his rank escalated. As a part of the Donquixote Guardia, the man felt like it was his job to keep that calm that was now being threatened. If his king was usurped, where in the world would society accept him? The intruders were threatening that serenity, his tranquility that he had fought to keep for so long.

There was the familiar roar that sounded like a foghorn in the sky telling him that his assigned partners were currently engaged in battle. He hastened his pace and bounded over another infrastructure; he was suppose to meet Owens and Bates in a little less than ten minutes. It would take him exactly eight minutes and fifty-four point six seconds reach them leaving him just enough time to give his parts a good oil down.

Amar detested tardiness and negligence; it was one of the few reasons why he objected pairing up with Owens in the first place. However, the death glare the Commander leveled on him a few hours ago had him snapping his head down in compliance. Faylar might not be the best partner to work with either, but his honed sense of direction and destructive power was top notch in the Donquixote.

Another bellow had him breaking into a fast sprint, his cannon cocked over his left shoulder and Pentel leaped off a particularly high building and landed with the soundless grace to the ground only to dodge the sudden burn of a laser beam that nearly singed the tips of his hair. He paused for a heartbeat to observe; pure hatred turned had Faylar's face puce as the large man struggled to wretch off the large, robotic hand wrapped around his throat. A few feet from his person, Mason let loose a low curse before his tall frame disappeared. It a blink, the man appeared behind a towering cyborg, his arms canted to smash his haki-imbued tonfas over the machine's head when the robot's arm suddenly snapped up and diverted the incoming blow with a push of its wrist.

There was a liberated cry of "Franky!" from another side and Pentel looked up, mid-fire to see a pitiful looking man sprawled on the ground looking like he was about to cry in relief.

His brain automatically pieced the two unidentified people in front of him and it clicked,

"Cyborg Franky and God Ussop," His voice was a low monotone as he hefted his cannon over one shoulder and slid two fingers over the trigger, "Cyborg – a fictional or hypothetical person whose physical abilities are extended beyond normal human limitations by mechanical elements built into the body. God -the creator and ruler of the universe and source of all moral authority; the Supreme Being. Die." His fingers pulled and the hum of energy filled the air before his gun shuddered and bucked as a bright beam of energy that illuminated the area and shot straight for the cyborg forcing him to drop Bates and throw his metal arms out in protection.

* * *

Inside his machine, Franky gritted his teeth as he gripped the joysticks in his hands; the f*cking hybrid guard was on his way to royally pissing him off. With a snarl, he threw the machine's body into the air and launched himself at him,

"Donquixote Guardia – a pile of assaulting bastards who deserves a major ass-whoopin!" His hands reached up to grab a lever and with a shout, he pulled down,

"General Cannon!" The machine powered its fist at the guard and released an ear-shattering blast as a large blast hot straight for the man. Something slammed into his Shogun and the shipwright let loose a colorful string of expletives when he felt his body lose its balance for a second to see from the outside cameras that the stupid ape had wrapped his body around his robot's knee and was punching furiously at the ball and socket.

"Oi! Stop it!" he shouted as his fingers worked at the controls. The Shogun lifted the offended leg and with a mighty kick, dislodged the man from his leg. There was a dull thud and the Strawhat swore when his Shogun let out a groan as two thick metal sticks slammed its way into the back of his robot's neck and penetrated straight through the steel plating,

"What the f*ck?!" Disbelief coursed through his voice as the unidentified guard let out a hoarse shout and he watched in astonishment as the two sticks, darkened with haki ripped down and sliced cleanly right though the back of his machine.

"Strong Right!" his fist lunged and smashed through the damaged plating busting the hole of his machine and punching the figure right in the stomach. There was a loud curse as the guard absorbed the impact and his knees buckled as he flew into a partially crushed building.

"Fist of Gulliver!" something that sounded like a bone snapping from body echoed throughout his machine and the monitors flashed a warning red; the huge bastard had practically ripped his Shogun's leg from under him.

"Rerouting Lower Torso Activated."


	11. Reason

"Rerouting Lower Torso Activated." there was a loud whirr as the shipwright scrambled from his position and lifted the hatch on the ceiling as he pulled himself inside the head. Gears and conks clanked together as the Shogun lowered its body to its knees and Franky leaped from his machine,

"Shogun Autopilot!" With both cannons flipped and ready to fire on his shoulders and arms, the cyborg was a walking war machine. The sniper had long managed to make his getaway among the chaos leaving the shipwright free to wreck a maelstrom of havoc. To his ultimate glee, there were plenty of materials he could use to fashion any sort of weapon of his choice as he faced off with the Guardia. Before he thought of engaging, the shipwright had taken a quick peek at the papers he had stashed inside his Shogun which confirmed his opponents. Even without his confirmation, Ussop's frightened scream had Franky already leaping into battle, papers be damned; his f*cking nakamas were in danger.

"Franky Radical Beam!" twin blazing beams of energy shot from his shoulders, the laser reacting to his target's heat signatures and immediately honed in to attack. The explosion shook the ground and the area around them shattered with the might. Palms upright, the shipwright leveled his aim at the blurry figures moving with inhuman speed and he struck, shooting a line of bullets everywhere.

There was an infuriated roar and a shadow from the corner of his eyes leaped at him; oh look, the crazy ape is back.

"You're going to pay for f*cking with me!" the man snarled and his fist punched out, striking sideways, sneaking past the Strawhat's guard and before Franky could even let out a curse, his head snapped back from the sharp blow and something screeched as sparks flew off his cheek, damaging the metal plating lying beneath his skin. The ape let out a colorful expletive and he leaped back to stare at the slightly bent spikes lying along his arm, "What the f*ck are you?" he hissed.

It was time. Franky let out a breath as he turned to face his adversaries. Despite the damage on his face, his sunglasses glinted off the slowly dying rays of the sunset as his stretched his arms out, the back of the wrists facing each other before he released his pent up breath and slammed his arms together, the half stars on his arms aligning

"I'M F*CKING SUPER!" his legs were epically bent, leaned to the side in heroic proportions.

Silence answered him.

"What the f*ck?" the ape growled and a few feet back, the guard with a facemask answered him,

"Super- exhibiting the characteristics of its type to an extreme or excessive-"

"Stuff it Cannon-Boy," the large man snarled and he tightened his grip onto his knuckle dusters and stepped forward, "this one's the Strawhat shipbuilder or somethin," he reached into his the little container he had clipped to his side and pulled out two small, blue tablets the size of a dime and popped it in his mouth. Faylar then stomped his foot down and bent his body into a crouch, his arm was drawn back and tucked close to his side; powering up,

"Tonfa-Boy and Cannon-Boy cover me," the ape's body had seemed to be completely frozen over.

"You don't have to tell me," Mason muttered as he flew in the air and swung his Haki-imbued weapons at the cyborg; Pentel would have to deal with the robot firing at their heat signatures, he didn't have time to help. Owens barely dodged a fist that flew for his face, nicking his jaw; the cyborg was proving to be more difficult than he thought.

"Quattro." His arms were spread apart, one raised above his head and the other lowered below his waist. His thumbs hovered over the ends of his grip and he pressed down. There was a soft click and the sliding of chains attached to the heavy weight of a ball fell to the ground.

As the soon as the balls touched the ground, the ground below it cracked.

He moved. The chains pin wheeling beside him and he darted forward lashing out. The cyborg didn't hesitate to allow the chains to wrap around his arms before he gripped the end Mason felt his body jerked forward. The balls of his feet automatically stuck out, slamming themselves against the man's armored chest; what the f*ck was the cyborg made of? He could feel the hum of energy from beneath his shoes and the vibrations that had the muscles in his arms trembling. Bracing himself, Mason pushed with the balls of his feet and flipped backwards, propelling his body up and into the air before he landed on the cyborg's shoulders. Aiming the ends of his tonfas at him, he fired,

"Pental!" another explosion had him flipping again to allow his partner's missile to smash into the cyborg's face. Mason felt his restricted chains loosen and he leaped back. For good measure, he fired off another round from his tonfas before he paused to access the target.

"You better not have killed that f*cker," Faylar growled and Mason shrugged while his heart gave an unexpected lurch and he risked a puzzled glance at his chest; why was it hurting?

When the dust cleared, Mason peered in to see if the cyborg was still standing. A large hand suddenly shot out of the smoke and Owens felt steel close over his head. Crushing pressure had his temples groaning in pain and he flicked another hidden channel in his tonfas and slid out the blades. Slashing down, he found the area where the metal joints connected wrist and hand and slashed downward. There was a loud curse and the hand lifted and Mason found out that part of the curse came from himself; even if he had strengthened his blades, he had only managed to cut down a fourth of the cyborg's wrist.

"Move it Tonfa-Boy!" even if he wanted to, he sure as hell couldn't, not with his blades stuck inside the man's wrists.

"MOVE!" came the warning roar and he knew in that split second that Bates had finished charging. Owens began to struggle in earnest, pulling with all his might; he was not going to let his weapons go! He'd rather die than allow his precious weapons to be smashed to pieces.

"You better let go boy," the cyborg was looking down at him, his eyes narrowed yet he made no move to help him. Mason threw a blistering glare at him, his upper lip pulled up baring his teeth,

"I'd rather die than let go," he snarled and he saw something soften in the Strawhat's eyes,

"Good answer," the large man grunted before an ear-splitting howl tore up the air and Bates hurled himself towards them, his eyes bleeding between red and gold, the region around his clenched knuckles were shining a brilliant white as the man powered toward them,

"GOLIATH!" the blazing white fist blasted at the two and Mason closed his eyes; it wasn't Faylar's fault that he couldn't stop himself. The term 'Carica' or charge worked as a double-edge-blade for the Donquixote. It gave an incredible and inhuman boost of power to the user and it was, in some ways a final blow that was meant to take out both yourself and your opponent. The pills unlocked the reserves in men's flight or fight reaction while completely draining the man's life force allowing the man a chance to grant his last wish. One Carica sucked up a good 40% of a man's life force.

Two Caricas…

Well…you go out with a bang.

* * * 

Each man has his own form of Carcia, yet they knew the consequences of using it so they were strictly told to set it aside until they were faced with either a situation where they were left without any other options or their king commanded them to.

In Faylar Bates' case, the man was more than eager to utilize his ill-gotten power despite the fact that he had partners who was more than capable of helping him take down the cyborg. He was a proud man standing at six four with long maroon colored hair that swept over his eyes and drew down his chiseled features. He had his long deceased mother's catlike emerald eyes and his long gone father's straight nose. At the age of 23, Bates had volunteered himself in Smile's mad scientist's experiments and came out three years later five inches taller, broader shoulders, spikes aligning his arms and a sadistic grin on his face. He was immediately put to work in the Donquixote Guardia and spent the majority of his time as Trebol's silent assassin.

One might ask why a person such as him would be called to carry out such assignments seeing that he was more made to be a monkey man than dabble in something that requires silence and precision. So it was rather a surprise when Evaluation day came and everyone took notice how swift the man was on his feet and that he was even faster and more bloodthirsty and competent at disemboweling heads than any of the participants. The man was blessed with the talent to slide a blade from a victim's ear to the other and neatly lay out their inner organs in the order of biggest to smallest without the target realizing that they've just been gutted.

Faylar was built with the words, vulgar, hot tempered, vicious, rambunctious and reckless and in general, not a very pleasant person to hang around.

Although to this day, no one really understood why cute and fluffy and cuddly animals still sometimes flocked to him…

Now, as the sharp ends of his teeth closed around the twin tablets set against his fangs, Bates didn't even pause to think of regretting a lick of his suicidal decision; he had done his job and it was to live and die for the king. He was more than eager to prove that he had worth, that he possessed something that others didn't and that was his mental strength; to be able to tolerate and withstand almost any sort of pain.

In his arrogance and recklessness, the man had once challenged the Shichibukai himself and as everyone expected…he had his ass handed to him on a silver platter.

The pills, mixed with his saliva, began their journey down his throat.

3

"Ah," something flashed into Faylar's mind and he felt a slight pang as he glanced over his shoulder at the man expertly hindering the machine's advance, "I remember his name now," he had a few more precious seconds left to chance a look at the other male in front of him currently locked in battle, "I remember his too."

2

"Pentel…and…Mason," the beginnings of what can be called a fond smile kicked up the corners of Bate's lips and he let out a sigh; his mission was about to be accomplished.

1

Then his mind had the nerve to flick something else up and Faylar's dark orbs widened,

"B*tch got lucky after all," he managed to spit out past clenched teeth before blindingly white lights filled his irises and he lost all rationality.

0

Thank you for reading!

I know Franky probably can't have his Shogun on autopilot but Oda hasn't really showed much of Franky's Robot's functions so it leaves me to make things up hehe.

Quattro: Italian word for 4


	12. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unsettled reunion

Robin felt her body suddenly give way as something sharp buried into the corners of her jacket, pining her upper body to the wall. Twin slender arms immediately sprouted from the walls and gripped onto the handles of the blades only to burst into petals when she realized that the handles were crafted with seastone.

The sun had finally set and the sound of cries and crackles of bonfires and lamps were the only things keeping the darkness at bay.

The noise of boots crunching leaves had her snapping her head to the side as her opponent stepped into the light of a street lamp,

"Amos," her voice was soft, layered with unyielding hardness as she came face to face with the man who had been in and out of her life for the last two years.

He had ink black hair that hung in wavy lines down his face and tapered off just below his neck. Startling green eyes now narrowed sharply down by drawn eyebrows seem to glow beneath the dim lighting as the man closed the gap between them. An equally dark half-mask hid the left side of his face; tendrils of burn scars marred the Guard's otherwise ruggedly appealing appearance.

He paused a foot away from her, the hair falling past his face as he canted his head to the side,

"Pettirosso," the Strawhat, well-known for her calm and tranquility, found herself struggling to push back a curse threatening to leave her lips; she knew in that moment, that he was no longer using that term as an endearment, rather it was a hushed warning that made her feel like the air surrounding her would suffocate her.

So he was a double agent after all, she realized and a part of her wondered why Dragon himself didn't take any action to exploit the man. During her partnership with the revolutionary leader, Nico Robin had made sure she kept herself distant from most of the organization and its revolutionaries – aside from the three, currently carrying investigations in Dressrosa. Rather, she made it clear that they should be aware of her main occupation and that they treat her with the attitude of two groups going through a business transaction; impersonal, respectful, and courteous.

Yet she found herself opening up a bit – just a little bit – to a man who went by the name Amos Capello who had been assigned as her partner for a few of her assignments. The duo had formed something of a bond during their time together and he in returned, revealed tidbits of himself as they worked.

Robin wasn't a fool as to think she had some sort of deep and soul-searing connecting with Amos, far from it actually. She was well aware of their terse friendship; the man might as well be the male version of her with his equally stoic demeanor and his all-too irritating impassive expression. While he was nonchalant and aloof with the members of the organization, it was not a mere boast that he was beyond proficient at his profession. The man was built with the body to engage in skirmishes with deadly precision and perform quick and efficient investigations that often ended in success. He wasn't one of Dragon's personal men, he wasn't even a high-ranking lackey either, but he had his own spotlight of admiration.

He preferred calling her name in Italian and often shortened it to 'Pett' whenever he felt that her name was too long.

Did she secretly enjoy the way her name rolled off his tongue whenever he sent that endearment towards her?

Yes

Did she sometimes allow herself to show the smile she usually graced her beloved nakamas with, just to see the corners of his lips turn up because she directed it at him?

…Yes

And did she, for a short time…in rare cases of relaxation…let herself loose just to watch the male carbon copy of herself reveal a side of him she would never have thought existed?

Yes…yes…and yes.

The man had been quickly becoming something more than just a mere acquaintance, he was beginning to break down the walls and barriers she had set up; with others, Robin drew the line at 'connections from high places,' her nakamas were placed their own category altogether.

Yet for Amos, she couldn't really put him in a set group, she couldn't even place him in with Sabo and Hack.

The man was an entire class of his own. He was someone who gave a level-headed woman like her trouble when it came to defining the lines of their relationship.

Him, the person who now stood a scant foot away from her person with his head cocked, the all too familiar half-mask shadowing his left eye, and the memorable little smile on his lips.

"It has been awhile." In that split second, Nico Robin shut down; the brief tug on her heartstrings along with the bit of shock had been neatly squashed and wiped clean off her heart.

"Ambrose." His name was spoken with doctoral detachment. It was cold and clinical and to her pleasure, the man wasn't able to hold back from exhaling at her tone. She could see the way his eyes hardened and his drawn features stiffen as he accepted her decision, she was –

"Is this how you wish for our reunion to begin?" he wasn't asking, he was demanding. Demanding her to lose the detached tone and return the woman two years ago. The soft rumble in his otherwise smooth tone had her harden her own resolve,

"There was never a reunion to begin with. Ambrose." She was already recognizing the slight twitch of his fingers signaling his growing annoyance.

"Is that so." He said softly and took a step to her, moving closer till the fringes of his cape brushed against her bare legs. Immediately, multiple, willowy hands shot out from both sides of his head and upper torso in an attempt to strangle him only to burst into a wave of petals when Robin realized that his mask and sections of his garment had been fashioned with bits and pieces of seastone glued and embedded into the fabric.

A rare hint of a smile touched the corners of his lips, "you seem surprised Pett, you didn't bother to hide that you were a devilfruit user," Robin made sure the sides of her lips stayed down,

"It wasn't never a secret," she replied and was forced to grit her teeth when the handle of another seastone imbued dagger pushed against the hallow of her chin, lifting her head up in an almost punishing gesture,

"Did you try to look for me when I left?" the cool denial in her eyes was his answer; she didn't try to contact him, not really. Sure whenever she had time – which wasn't much- the woman allowed herself to cast her eyes over the seas as her mind flicked over to a certain dark figure with striking emerald eyes and pitch black mask covering the burns. In some ways, he was like her, mysterious, unapproachable and enigmatic.

Amos was the man she worked with the last two years, he was the man she let see hints of her softer side, he was the one who had her stomach shifting whenever he permitted her those rare glimpses of his smile. He wasn't this, this stranger who was now staring at her with the eyes of a killer and wearing the smile of the person two years ago.

This wolf in sheepskin…this predator…he wasn't Amos.

So why shouldn't she feel anything but nothingness and numb betrayal?

Amos no, Ambrose' eyes traveled down her body and landed on his crumpled poster lying on the floor,

"Liar," his rebuke was gentle as his gloved hands closed over her wrists and she was wretched into the dark–

"WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING TO ROBIN-SEMPAI?!"

* * *

"Shit it's already dark," Zoro stopped to scratch his head in confusion as he studied his surroundings; beyond the citizens of Dressrosa still in the midst of panicked confusion and the ever-loving explosions coming from the middle of the city, he still hadn't been able to find his mark. The night certainly wasn't doing any good and the moon was doing an absolutely pathetic job at substituting the rays of the sun.

Maybe if he turned…here… in the corner of his eye, the swordsman caught the brief flick of a cloak disappearing behind a corner and burst in a heavy sprint all but leaping around the side only to find nothing.

He let out a heavy sigh and spun around only to slam head to head with another figure coming up behind him,

"Ooompf!" the swordsman stumbled back rubbing his head, his already drawn brows were now mashed together creating a very nice and connected uni-brow. The offender in front of him was also mimicking his actions; his thick brows too, were pulled together as he glared up at Zoro,

"Please watch where you are going," he muttered gruffly, the superior yet humble charade he put up pricked an irritating nerve and Zoro leveled the stranger with searing a glare of his own,

"You should be watching your-" he froze and let his eyes fall from the man to the nearly torn poster fisted in his hand; the hair buzz cut military style, well over six feet, toned arms, two guns strapped to his sides and the distinguishable knife wound on his left….cheek. Zoro allowed his quickly narrowing eyes to drift over the man in front of him and felt the simmering fire rise up and nearly consume him; bingo.

"You." The word came out as a blistering growl; calm didn't even register in his mind as he, in a flash, had his swords in his fists and the other in a firm clench between his teeth.

Zoro lunged, his arms hung low, allowing the tips of his blades to scrape along the ground, sharpening it, honing it, whetting its bloodthirsty appetite. A searing haze of crimson flashed over his vision as his wrists began to spin, whirling his blades as he hurled into the air, his lean body nearly parallel to the earth,

"SANTORYU OGI: SANZEN SEKAI!"


	13. Reciprocate

"Shit it's already dark," Zoro stopped to scratch his head in confusion as he studied his surroundings; beyond the citizens of Dressrosa still in the midst of panicked confusion and the ever-loving explosions coming from the middle of the city, he still hadn't been able to find his mark. The night certainly wasn't doing any good and the moon was doing an absolutely pathetic job at substituting the rays of the sun.

Maybe if he turned…here… in the corner of his eye, the swordsman caught the brief flick of a cloak disappearing behind a corner and burst in a heavy sprint all but leaping around the side only to find nothing.

He let out a heavy sigh and spun around only to slam head to head with another figure coming up behind him,

"Ooompf!" the swordsman stumbled back rubbing his head, his already drawn brows were now mashed together creating a very nice and connected uni-brow. The offender in front of him was also mimicking his actions; his thick brows too, were pulled together as he glared up at Zoro,

"Please watch where you are going," he muttered gruffly, the superior yet humble charade he put up pricked an irritating nerve and Zoro leveled the stranger with searing a glare of his own,

"You should be watching your-" he froze and let his eyes fall from the man to the nearly torn poster fisted in his hand; the hair buzz cut military style, well over six feet, toned arms, two guns strapped to his sides and the distinguishable knife wound on his left….cheek. Zoro allowed his quickly narrowing eyes to drift over the man in front of him and felt the simmering fire rise up and nearly consume him; bingo.

"You." The word came out as a blistering growl; calm didn't even register in his mind as he, in a flash, had his swords in his fists and the other in a firm clench between his teeth.

Zoro lunged, his arms hung low, allowing the tips of his blades to scrape along the ground, sharpening it, honing it, whetting its bloodthirsty appetite. A searing haze of crimson flashed over his vision as his wrists began to spin, whirling his blades as he hurled into the air, his lean body nearly parallel to the earth,

"SANTORYU OGI: SANZEN SEKAI!" there was a resounding explosion that blasted apart the night sky and when the dust cleared, the verdict found the swordsman locked in a fierce battle against the man who had the flat of his guns crossed and pressed against all three of his blades strategically blocking and preventing the sharp ends from cutting down. There was the sickening sound of blood spurting out as three perpendicular slashes crisscrossed the man's chest and he coughed, letting out a hoarse chuckle,

"You got me pretty good there boy." Before Zoro could even blink, he found himself grabbed by the back of the collar and his face smashed to the dirt, both of his arms were bound behind his back and held down by a foot. In a flash, three quiet pings went off and blood spattered down his arms and shoulders before the weight lifted off him and he found three bullets lodged down his shoulder blades,

"An eye for an eye," Rafael Serg explained as he stared down at him, the way he said it made it sound as if they were simply playing a game…it sounded almost…casual. Zoro's tapered brows furrowed down as he cracked his neck and set his swords over one shoulder before slashing them down to the ground with all his might.

Air so sharp it cut whistled from his blades and shot straight for Serg, the wounds looked as if they did nothing to hinder the man's movements for his wrists flicked up and he fired, his bullets spiraling in opposition to the current, cutting through the strike till the moment the slash hit him, it passed harmlessly through his body only to have the bite of a blade appear out of nowhere and cut straight down his torso,

"Tooth for a tooth," Zoro retorted and bore his blades down simultaneously slicing into the whistle of bullets. Suddenly, the swordsman transferred one of his swords to his other hand and drew back his arm, his biceps bulging, his hands formed into a tight fist as he punched down and knuckles connected with cheek. Blood spattered from the man's lips and to his satisfaction, a tooth loosened from Serg's jaw and flew out of his mouth. Zoro bit back a wince as a knee shot up and nailed him straight between his legs.

"Unlike some, I don't turn the other cheek," was the reply as a large fist smashed straight into his eye and he plunged his blade down in retaliation. The f*cking man was just going to have to die, Zoro decided as he lashed his blade at him only to have the firing end of the guns expertly blocking his attack.

How the f*ck was he doing this? He wondered as he increased the speed of his slashes, cutting, jabbing and viciously lacerating, the muscles in his body moving as one, syncopating with him, thirsting for more than just the shallow gnashes his cuts managed to make; they craved for the blood to gush, to flow and to burst like a f*cking fountain and coat the ground in front of him. They were demanding for that promised retribution, they-

"She was pretty darn tight." The side comment had the swordsman jerking out of his murderous haze and freezing dead on the spot.

What. Did. The. F*cker. Just. Say?

The man was simply asking to die a very, very painful death. From the nonchalant look on his face, he was practically asking to be strung to a tree by his lacerated intestines with his bloody dick stuffed down his throat.

A sadistic smile tore up his dark expression as Zoro tightened his grip even further and he raised his arms and leaped into the air, tucking his body into a ball, the razor edges of his blades out as he spun toward the leader the of Guardia,

"HYO KIN DAMA!" the cold air whipped around his body as he tore past the man who let out a grunt of pain as his swords sliced through sinew and bone,

"BLIZNETS AD[1]!" something struck out and interrupted the flow of his spinning and somehow…somehow Zoro found himself abruptly cut off as his legs planted themselves firmly to the ground and he was pushed back a few feet.

There, twin guns inked black, set once more in the middle where his blades crossed, his ripped arms heaving from the effort as the leader managed to once again halt his movements.

"That's enough." There was another soft ping that the swordsman almost missed and he felt his knees, out of the blue, give way bringing him to ground; the f*cker had shot clean through his kneecaps.

Hissing through his teeth, Zoro lifted his head to meet the same guns aiming point blank at his forehead, "I said enough," a minute tremble went through the swordsman's body as he tilted his chin up, the eerie grin widened even further as he, with inhuman willpower, pushed himself to his feet and leaned nose to nose with Donquixote's leader,

"Or what?" it was a blatant challenge along with the violent ripple of malicious fury as strength clashed with strength, pure male and testosterone hung heavy in the air, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

* * *

Rafael Serg took a few steps back and this time, he took a good look his opponent before he allowed himself to really begin to hope; he was good.

It was taking Rafael everything he had in him not to give the swordsman a homicidal smile of his own; the man was more than good, he was a f*cking beast.

The second they clashed, Serg felt the man's immense and almost frightening level of strength that had him trembling from his shoulders down.

It wasn't in fear; rather it was the high intensity of adrenaline and anticipation coursing through him that had his entire body shaking. He was just so f*cking excited that he'd found a person who had the ability to match his own power. Rafael was a man of destruction; he had the capability to rend buildings in two and level foundations to the ground. He was suppose to the be the leader, the role model, the one whom his men looked up to and took orders from and didn't ask questions. Sure he played nice most of the time but once in a while, he needed a way to release some of that pent up energy and that was by pitting the odds against him.

He loved challenges, couldn't and wouldn't ever refuse them. Be it with him in a gladiator ring and pitted against 100 to 1 and the chances slim to none and he'd still play his heart out.

He played hard, worked hard, and whenever opportunity came, f*cked even harder.

Now, now there was a challenger in front of him, one who could give him a run for his money…no…the man could more than possibly give him a fight he'd have to stake his life on.

Serg kept his grip on the handle of his darling armaments loose and although he looked like a man who utilized nothing but raw power, he wasn't stupid, far from it. Commander Rafael Serg was a clever, clever man who wasn't above exploiting his opponents and strategically breaking them down till they fell to their knees. Each and every one of his actions were measured and used with a carefully controlled amount of force, enough so that his opponent, in the end, would be reduced to nothing more than a fool begging for mercy.

But this man in standing before, this man was much, much different than his previous competitors. He reeked of sheer strength and masculinity and the look in his eyes! To Serg, the eyes were the true windows to a person's soul, and this man holding his gaze told him that death should be the one shaking in fear, that he and death could go and f*ck themselves.

This man had Serg putting him in the highest rank of admiration and respect.

This man, who was proudly standing straight, his chin tilting at an arrogant angle, was now currently beginning to piss him off, and very, very few things bothered him.

This man, was worthy of him cutting loose and bringing out his own beast.

So Serg goaded him; although he didn't remember the details of the rape, his mind still retained bits and pieces of the memory that would've been enough to leave a grown man considering suicide but to the Commander, it was simply ammunition. He had put his poster and the livid swordsman together and had drawn to the conclusion that the woman was held of high value. Therefore, it was fitting to believe that the man was here for revenge.

Serg let out a low chuckle before his wrists flipped the gun around till he was gripping the weapons' barrel. Deft fingers flicked on the safety lock and slid open another button and two long blades unfolded themselves from the butt of the gun, unfurling till sharp tip touched the top of his boots.

Sinister black Haki flowed down the blades, hardening and strengthening them till they were unbreakable. Since the man was a swordsman, he should honor him by crossing blades with his own.

Mockingly, he tapped the flat of his blade on the tip of his boot and flicked the second one toward his opponent,

"Ready?" the swordsman smiled; his grin gone completely feral as he crossed his arms and bent forward,

"Come at me f*cker."

* * *

[1] "BLIZNETS AD!" : Russian for, "Twin Hell."


	14. Raunchy

A mixture of snot and tears slid down both sets of drawn cheek bones and flowed over the slime covered nose ring as frantic fingers ran over his already mussed up, flashy green hair.

"When I find Robin-sempai I'm going to make sure to ask her if I can be her s-s-s-s-sl-" Pure ecstasy and adoration streamlined through the man's already infatuated mind as he covered his mouth and tried to hide the stupid grin slobbering all over his face.

Meet Bartolomeo the Cannibal, the biggest f*cking Strawhat-obsessed fan the world has ever seen. He is the person millions of readers flock to and live vicariously through. He is our eyes and ears and the person we rely on in order to further immerse ourselves in the world of One Piece.

We should take a moment to thank Oda for this.

Thank you Oda.

"Robin-sempai with all due respect please bestow me with your grace and allow me to be your slave." The man in question was doing what many men would do when they are gearing themselves up meet a gorgeous woman…they rehearse yes?

"Oh beautiful and magnificent Robin- no not this one," Bartolomeo chucked the discarded flashcard over his shoulder as he continued to make his way down Dressrosa's streets paying no mind to the steadily growing chaos.

"Oh, Robin-sempai! With thou brave honey-tongued nimble-pinion! Thou long and slender- OI! WATCH WHERE THE F*CK YOU'RE GOING!" he roared as someone slammed into his shoulder upsetting the stack of cards in his hands.

"People these days," he muttered as he bent to retrieve the few pieces that fell out of his grip when his ears twitched and a familiar perfume wafted over his nose,

"R-r-r-r-obin-s-s-s-sempai!" as soon as the smell of object of his infatuation hit him, the man's brain immediately shut down and he was reduced to the hard-core fan boy he was.

His slow gait increased till he was sprinting like a maniac over the cobbled stones and ruined infrastructures and skidded to a stop only to witness a scene that he would forever take to his grave,

"WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING TO ROBIN-SEMPAI?!" gone were the tears and snot and in its place was a raging bull with his rooster hair quivering at attention and his nose ring fluttering out with each angry puff.

The offender froze from his ministrations and slightly swiveled his head to spare him a glance before considering him insignificant and turned back.

Images of his precious sempai being held against her will and her reputation tarnished sent a bolt of rage searing through Bartolomeo's body and with a roar, he lunged,

"Barrier Crash!" a translucent, thick wall rushed forward and with a twitch of his fingers, leaped straight ahead to slam into his opponent. With a move that looked as if he was doing nothing more than playing hopscotch with a child, the stranger pushed at the ground and soared into the air at an astonishingly high rate.

"Dardo[1]" four blurs rotating at high speed sped toward the devilfruit user only to be blocked by the same wall,

"Hahahaha! You think those f*cking measly things can penetrate my barrier?" Bartolomeo smirked as he crossed his fingers and arms, "think again!" the tip of his index fingers flicked and the wall arched back and with a snap, hurled the darts straight back to their owe-,

"Sh*it ROBIN-SEMPAI!" Bartolomeo sprang up to see that his rebounded attack was not only aimed toward the man, but towards his beloved idol.

To his shock, the man simply tucked the woman over his shoulder and with his other arm, knocked the flying darts back to him,

"F*ck, Barrier!" Bartolomeo barely had time to put up his block when an explosion rocked the ground and he was shoved down on his ass. There was a cry as a scuffle took place in the sky as Bartolomeo watched beneath the glare of the moon as Robin managed to place her hands on her captor's unprotected neck and there was a shout of, "Clutch!"

Instead of hearing the gleeful sound of bones cracking, there was an answering scream that had Bartolomeo springing to his feet as he watched in shock as her subjugator slipped from her neck-breaking grip by wrapping an arm around his own neck, effectively blocking her,

"Punto Scuro![2]" the stranger pressing two fingers together, lifted his arm into the air and with lightening speed, brought it down and up into Robin's diaphragm.

"ROBIN-SEMPAI!" fingers crossed, Bartolomeo molded the wall into steps and used them to boost him into the air. "Give her back you f*cker!" the stranger casted him a look, his emerald eyes glimmering with annoyance,

"Don't you ever give up?" he hissed and as a reply, Bart stuck a finger into his nose, scooped out the first booger he could get, rolled it into a ball and with an expert flick of his finger, sent it soaring straight for the man's forehead.

It connected with a soft plop.

There was a pause as the man practically gaped at Bartolomeo with his mouth parted open before he snapped it shut and wiped the offensive mucus from his head,

"You scum," he spat, a vein bulged from his neck as he pointed two fingers at our fanboy and rumbled,

"Sei![3]" two thick beams of energy shot from his fingertips and before Bartolomeo could even react, the lasers shot straight through both of his thighs sinking him to the ground,

"Non interferire! Do not interfere!" He was angry, heavy waves of dark aura wafted around his body making his appearance more frightening than ever. Bartolomeo grunted, his vision beginning to waver and flicker from the pain as he forced himself to his feet,

"Not until you give sempai back," he growled and his arms flung out, throwing the force of the energy he had managed to gather with his power back at their proprietor,

"Eat that you piece of sh*t!" he shouted as the ball of energy slung from his blockade and swung straight for the man only to have him step -side his attack. Another beam shot his way and Bartolomeo, with a pinky up his nose, had his barrier interrupting the blow, allowing the blow to uselessly bounce off. Another twist of his hands had his wall splitting and forming beneath his feet carrying him into the air while the other half kept Bartolomeo safely tucked away from the man's blasts,

"You don't deserve to even touch her," he growled as he launched himself at the man, twisting just in time to dodge another beam and with an expert jab of his leg, kicked the man straight in his unprotected throat.

The man made a horrible choking sound and Bartolomeo noticed his grip on Robin slacken and in a flash, he had his hands wrapped around her ankle,

"Si po' merda![4]" the man hissed and he righted himself and with his free hand, grabbed Bart by the back of his head and slammed him right into his protruding knee. Bartolomeo let out a howl but refused to loosen his grip,

"Well *pant* you know what?! Hai delle tette stupende[5] to you too!" the grip on his lime green hair stilled and suddenly, he found a foot placed over his diaphragm and he was booted so hard the air left his lungs.

"Shit!" he gasped, all the while wondering why the stranger was staring at him with mixed expressions of anger and horror,

"Mi stai prendendo per il culo[6]." The bewildered tone in the man's voice poured a bit more of courage in our fanboy's veins and he coughed once before tightening his grip onto his sempai's slim ankles and leaned forward,

"Oh yea? Well you're a f*cking Puttana[7]!" Bartolomeo wasn't well-versed in Italian insults and he sure as heck didn't know what he was saying. He had heard a few of his crewmates who happened to be of Italian descent frequently speak in their mother tongue and had picked up a bit. But at the moment, he didn't care that his Italian was pretty botched up; the only thing that mattered was that his insult had the desired effect. The man's already pale skin was steadily turning into a sickly shade of insipid white,

"Silence you fool!" the furious, accented tinge of Italian began seeping in the captor's voice as he with a loud hiss, jerked away with Bartolomeo hot on his heels as the duo sped across the dark sky.

***

[1] "Dardo" : Dart

[2] "Punto Scuro!" : Italian for Dark Point

[3] "Sei" : Italian word for number 6

[4] "Si po' merda!" : Italian word for, "you little shit!"

[5] "Hai delle tette stupende" : Italian for, "you have nice tits"

[6] "Mi stai prendendo per il culo." : Italian for, "you've got to be f*cking kidding me."

[7] "Puttana" : Italian word for "whore"

***

The little fool had no idea what he was saying, Ambrose darted past the man's grasping hands and he whipped down to land onto the ground and was about to sprint off when he suddenly swerved and barely avoided a collision with three of his partners from the Donquixote,

"Ambrose!" the man turned to see three men jogging toward him, their dark uniforms perfectly camouflaging into the night,

"Bastilla, Rye, Chuy," he nodded his head at them and let out a sigh when he caught the irritating flash of green streak in front of him,

"Wait right there you two-face-" the man skidded to a stop; his smug expression froze when he took in the sight of eight pairs of eyes training toward him. Ambrose felt a little jolt of satisfaction run through him when he saw the way the man practically wilted in front of him; the idiot got what was coming for him. What was the little fool spouting about again? Ambrose inwardly shuddered when he remembered what the man was insulting him with; Ambrose Canola definitely does not fall so low as to commit such despicable deeds.

"Es que usted molesto[8]?" at a dominating 7 '5', Antonio Bastilla towered over the group, his black blue hair streaked red curled over his face as he glared down at the lime-haired man, his large hands curling into fists,

"dejarlo para mi[9]." Ambrose instructed as he gently swung his Pett's body into the cradle of his arms; he needed her to understand why he betrayed her, the sooner they got past this hurdle, the sooner he could win back her trust.

"Y-you wanna have a language fight with me again?! Huh?! Well I have something to say to you too! Penso di essermi innamorato di te[10]!" at the confession, the second-in-command of the Donquixote Guardia felt the back of his ears burn as the Guardias turned their heads to face him, their brows raised in question. Antonio sported a surprised look while Levi was busy trying to hide his snicker in the form of a cough. Aiden, being a mixture of Korean and European and had enough knowledge of Italian to understand, didn't bother to hide the guffaw bursting from his chest.

"I-is he, is he confessing his love to you?" the dragon earring on Levi's ear winked under the lamp light and he finally dropped to his knees and slammed his fist onto the ground in a fit of uncontrollable laughter,

"I think he is," Aiden's wide chest was heaving as he gasped for breath.

The offender, now thoroughly encouraged, straightened his back and shouted,

"Lo so che non doveri, ma provo veramente qualcosa per te[11]!" the poor second-in-command's ears and face was now straining not to turn an embarrassingly blotchy red as he, with a growl, shoved his Pett into Antonio's shaking arms and launched himself at the little fool; he was going to kill him!

***

[8] "Es que usted molesto?" : Spanish for, "is he bothering you?"

[9] "dejarlo para mi." : Spanish for, "leave him to me."

[10] "Penso di essermi innamorato di te" : Italian for, "I think I'm in love with you!"

[11] "Lo so che non doveri, ma provo veramente qualcosa per te!" : Italian for, "I probably shouldn't feel this way but I do."

A/N: Thank you for reading!


	15. Rescue

Sanji had heard the start of a fight blowing up some hundred yards away from his person and was already running towards the sound. With some luck, he might run into his perpetrators.

And he got lucky, as soon as he leaped from the building he was currently standing on, he came just in time to hear the words, "I think I'm in love with you!" echo throughout the alley followed by another round of boisterous laughter.

What the hell? The cook stalked closer to see a man sporting a brilliant hair color of green along with a nose ring and an angry expression scream, "I probably shouldn't feel this way but I do!" Now Sanji was thoroughly confused as he watched the three men he identified in his posters break out in a fit of mirth. One on was on the floor clutching his stomach and pounding the ground while the other wiped tears from his eyes and the other large man was chuckling while holding a limp and unconscious-

"WHY THE F*CK ARE YOU HOLDING MY ROBIN-CHWAAAANN!?" the question came out as an enraged howl as the flaming chef shot toward the group, his body flying in the air, the sole of his right leg stuck out as he slammed his heel into the giant's cheek. With a roar on pain, the man released his crewmate and Sanji quickly dove down elegantly sweeping his lifeless damsel into his arms. The swirl of his brows were quivering in anger when a loud and excited wail startled him from his murderous rage,

"S-S-S-S-S-SANJI S-SEMP-PAI! A-A-A-A-AHHHHH!" the cook nearly yelped as he leaped away from the lime-haired man running toward him with his arms clenched over his mouth, tears pouring down his cheeks, his eyes shining with unconstrained and ecstatic stimulation.

A vomit-worthy scene flashed in front of our cook's eyes; images of large men cross-dressing in woman's clothing, their thick lips coated with a vibrant red lipstick, their eyes drawn over and shaded with liner and mascara…

"NOOOOOOOO! F*CK YOUUUUUUU!" he spun and did a whirlwind kick narrowly missing the man's face, "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MEEEEEEE!"

They were reaching for him, their eyes sparkling in delight and lust as their large hands and equally large fingers with their nails painted coral pink.

Chasing him, their monstrous lips pursed in preparation, impossibly long lashes blinking in flirtatious beckoning as they turned their come-to-me palms toward him.

Reaching for him.

Reaching for him.

Something large pounced at him, a black gloved hand reached for his face and the cook let out a bellow as he flipped back, making sure that he didn't jostle his precious crewmate,

"Hold on a little longer Robin-chwan." He gritted his teeth as he ricocheted off a wall and up onto the top of a building,

"S-SANJI-SEMPAI!" the chef nearly shrieked when he realized that the ugly man had climb up right behind him,

"Come back 'ere you little git!" a large fist smashed down out of nowhere only to be blocked by a transparent wall the nose-ringed man had put up,

"You're a devilfruit user?" Sanji's curled brow rose in surprise as he glanced up at the sturdy dome,

"Y-yes sempai! I ate the barrier, barrier fruit!" the man was just about writhing in excitement, his head tilted back to look at him with an expression of a puppy waiting to be praised. Sanji coughed,

"Err, good job," he muttered and the man let out a happy squeal as another wave of tears streamed down his face,

"TH-TH-TH-THANK YOU SEMPAI! C-CAN I HAVE YOU'RE A-AUTOGRAPH?" it was a plea that had the cook wincing as he tenderly laid Robin down to the ground,

"Please forgive me for allowing you to rest on this filthy ground Robin-san," he pulled off his jacket and rolled it into some sort of pillow before tucking it underneath her head, "I'll be sure to make this up to you." He rose to his feet and turned to face the four adversaries, his eyes landing and narrowing on the one who, at the moment, was wearing an expression of pure malevolence.

The stranger stepped forward, his back straight, the cloak around him billowing out and the cook shifted back a step. The man strode a few feet forward and stopped, he held out his right arm, hands curled expectantly,

"Stranger, release her." The command had Sanji sneering; who was he to order him around?

"I'm going to allow you to use your barrier to protect Robin-san," he didn't break his staring contest as he spoke, "but if I see that a hair on her beautiful head is injured or if I see you touching her, I will grind your bones to f*cking bits. You hear me shitty man?" there was a choked sob of happiness and the sound of a bone cracking as the man nodded, his tear filled eyes shining fervently at him,

"H-HAI! SANJI-SEMPAI! I WILL PROTECT HER WITHOUT FAIL!" With his hands in his pockets, the chef walked off the top of the building, landing with elegant ease onto the ground,

"Now, who the hell are you?" he kept his eyes on the cloaked figure in front of him. The man tilted his head to the side, the light of the moon glancing off of his mask,

"Ambrose Canola, second-in-command of the Donquixote Guardia." He made no move to further state his intentions, only continued to hold out his hand, "now, hand her over." The authority in his tone had Sanji nonchalantly taking the cigarette out his mouth with his index and middle finger and tilting his head back to blow a stream of smoke in the air.

"Heh, and what if I don't want to?" the chef didn't take orders from anyone saved for the ladies and the occasional command from his captain. Other than that, Sanji took orders from no one.

Under the light of the moon, he caught the tightening of Ambrose's jaw and the man shifted forward,

"Ambrose! Me permitirá." It was the giant that Sanji had kicked in the face that lumbered up to stand beside the second in command. He was a large as  
Franky's Shogun with a huge-ass axe strapped over his back. Long, streaked hair framed strong jaws and slanted cheekbones and hung past his firm chin and trailed down a thick neck to linger below the collarbones. The man took another step forward and the ground gave a little shudder as he advanced toward the chef,

"Little man," the slight was spoken in a low rumble that seem to resonate deep in the Guardia's chest, the minor twitch of his elbow, while, to a bystander, seemed insignificant, sent the Strawhat flying back when a sudden blast split the stillness apart as the giant's axe crushed the floor beneath them, shattering and crushing the ground where Sanji had been standing. Teeth clenching onto the end of his cigarette, the blonde chef growled as he flew forward, his back arching backwards, his hands planted onto the ground as he slipped past the giant's lunging arms and tucked the soles of his shoes beneath the man's chin,

"MUTTON SHOT!" there was a bone-splitting crack as the large man's head snapped up only, to Sanji's astonishment, jerk back down, a meaty elbow slamming straight into the chef's unprotected side sending him crashing to the ground. The heavy sound of metal dragging along gravel rang as the giant canted his weapon and swung sideways. The cook, with a move so fast the air blurred, twisted and clamped his ankles around the section where blade connected with handle and with all his might pushed the swing over his body and aimed it directly for the giant's neck.

The sickening sound of blade sinking deep into bone had a chorus of curses and the chef darted back to watch the colossal man stagger back, his large hands grasping uselessly at the handle of his axe, blood pouring and spurting out in little cracks and pops as they streamed down his bare chest, staining his white trousers as gravity pulled his heavy body to the ground and he fell with an earth-shaking thud.

There was a soundless gurgle and another violent twitch before the large body stilled.

***

"He killed him." Hush admiration colored Aiden's tone as the second youngest of the Guardia turned his head to stare at the Strawhat. The young man was already reaching behind his back for his lance and Ambrose quickly intervened,

"Step down Aiden," the second-in-command kept his sharp gaze on his opponent as he reached up to undo the clasps on his cape. A frowning Levi crossed his arms and shook his head before he bent down to grab his own armaments,

"Ambrose I don't think-"

"Stand. Down." The grey-haired man's thin brows narrowed and the man backed off with an irritated huff,

"Fine, but don't say I didn't tell you." Ambrose ignored the man's disgruntled mutter and made his way in the direction of the Strawhat. Stopping a few feet away, he accessed his adversary; the man seem to be adept in fighting with his legs and he seem to have some sort of special connection with his Pett judging by the protective and angry aura that emanated from his person. A dark suspicion that this blond hair man was his Pett's new partner sent a light ripple of unease through his body. The Guardia tamped the emotion down, his chin tilted skyward as he lifted two fingers up, aimed and casually flicked a beam of energy at him. The Strawhat dodged and Ambrose, pinpointing his finger once more, let loose a thick laser and simply traced the beam after the man's heels as he dodged till Ambrose grew tired and tapped his pinky out, shooting an unsuspected third shot that clipped the Strawhat on his thigh,

"Are you done running?" an answering chuckle made the second in command blink in surprise only to pivot his body to the side to avoid a kick to the chest. With movements that would make a his fellow Donquixotes wonder if he had once taken up some sort of secret occupation as a contortionist, Ambrose ducked, dodged and evaded flying kicks with such ease it was as if he was taking a stroll. He twisted down and hunched down in time to release another beam, slicing past his adversary's calf. The man leaped into the air and spun, whirling his body into a blinding frenzy as flames suddenly erupted from his body.

There was an excited exclamation of "holy shit!" From Aiden as the Strawhat lifted a now red hot, fiery leg that glowed white from the heat, the flames burning through the fabric of his pants, turning his flesh a brilliant white as the Strawhat launched himself at Ambrose. As ridiculous as it sounds, the second in command couldn't help but stop to stare at the way the line of fire didn't stop at the Strawhat's shins but continued to engulf his body. He found his own brows rising in curious fascination at the way the thin edges of the flames followed and lighted up the delicate curves…of…the…chef's…eyebrows…

"Shit!" heat roared in Ambrose's face, singeing the fine hairs on his face as he was forced to throw out his arms and allow his skin to absorb the impact. The chef then proceeded to inflict a flurry of fiery kick upon burning kick onto him, stomping all over his head, face and torso, his heels destroyed the protective material of his clothes as the blonde hammered away at bare skin. The smell of burning flesh smoked the air and Ambrose gritted his teeth against the pain and tucked the heel of his foot up to smash it into the Strawhat's stomach only to find another shin blocking his attack. In a split second, the vice-commander altered his direction and bunted the tip of his boot right up the chef's jugular. The foul smelling cigarette shot out of the Strawhat's mouth and the blonde let out a clenched curse and Ambrose felt an expletive on the verge of spilling out of his own mouth as the pressure on his arms increased.

With a roar, the air sawing out of Ambrose's lungs, the taunt muscles bunching up beneath his scorched flesh, his legs planted wide as the co-commander threw his strength forward and surged. His wrist twisted upward locking onto the chef's ankle and with one hand, dragged the man to the ground as his other hand shot out and let loose another beam of energy directly in the Strawhat's face,

"Sei!" the night sprang up with light only to blink off as quickly as it began as Ambrose withdrew his hand to allow the Strawhat to slump to the ground at his feet. The second in command was breathing hard; he'd use up most of his strength in that particular blast and he stepped back only to grunt as a pair of burnt hands shot out and wrapped around his ankle,

"I'm, *wheeze* not done with you *cough* yet." Ambrose tilted his head down to look at the blonde lying limp on the ground, a sliver of admiration slithered into his body as he bent his head down to look at him. Before he could react, a mass of hands sprouted from his…body? Ambrose felt his face twist in, shock and disbelief as smooth flesh and fingers enclosed over the bones of his arms and neck, clasping over his throat, weaving together while a few more gripped the back of his calves.

"CLUTCH!" All the air in the second in command's body rushed out of him as his entire torso was yanked back, his spine letting out a scream of protest as his plasticity was pushed to its utmost limits. It was only then when he belatedly realized that the Strawhat had used his flames to burn away his clothing, making him completely exposed and vulnerable to devil-fruit users. A faint smile graced his parched lips,

"Clever Pett," he whispered, knowing without a doubt that she heard him as a dark figure flew in front of him and a heel struck his temple sending him straight into oblivion.


	16. Recreant

A long nose bobbed up and down, frantic pants filled the air as the sniper spied a ledge jutting out from what seems to be remnants of a collapsed hotel and made a desperate attempt to grab on. His dirt encrusted fingers found purchase onto a brick edge and he scrambled on top in time to avoid a bone-jarring explosion that went off at his feet.

God-Ussop…who, at the moment, when he wasn't acting so godly and badass, was doing what he was famously well-known for; running away.

"Ack!" the sniper let out a yelp as the round ends of his boots lit on fire and he had to climb higher to allow his boots to stomp on the previous ledge.

"Ready or not! Here we come!" two high pitched giggles that made the hair on Ussop's neck rise as the terrified sniper let out a petrified whimper of, "mommy save me" as he continued to bravely push on his trembling limbs,

"Oh pee, pee man! Where arrreeee youuuu!" Ussop fought back another little whimper; it wasn't his fault! He didn't have any other choice but to relieve himself on the side when there weren't any urinal stalls hanging around. It was only when he realized that he had 'splashed' a bit onto a wandering leg when he realized, to his horror that he didn't just pee on any poor citizen. The sniper had managed to land himself right smack in the middle of his targets; the twins of the Donquixote Guardia, Arc and Cross.

Turns out that it wasn't just one person Ussop had to fight, two siblings who matched each other in nearly every physical and mental aspect as they skipped hand in hand down the road till the pair stopped just below his feet. Two matching pairs of bright blue orbs blinked innocently up at him. The one on the left stepped forward,

"Pway wit us mista!" a toothy grin sent the sniper pushing his body up higher,

"S-s-s-s-s-s-st-ay a-away f-f-from m-m-m-meeeee!" he frantically jabbed his rod at the children below and his eyes nearly popped out when they too began to climb, "nooooooooo!" The sharpshooter was now forced to multitask between clumsily scrabbling at the ledges with all four of his limbs and poking his rod at the twins as he skittered ahead.

"DUCK!" What? Ussop swerved his head to look down only to see a horror he would take to his grave. Gone were the mischievous and secretive little smiles the twins had previously given and in its place, a jaw-ripping, gum-showing, fang-gleaming and bone-cracking grin that seem to take up the duo's entire face stared back up at him. Two pairs of the smallest eyes the sniper had ever seen glared up at him as their cavern mouths gaped open and closed,

"DUCK!" their toddler hands, for a second, shrank to minute sizes only to suddenly swell up like a gorged balloon and bulge outward, blue and red veins stemmed from arm, elbow, wrist and fingers with foot long nails stretched up to meet him.

"GOOSE!" With a gleeful screech, they were upon him, leaping in the air, jaws yawning open, the nauseating sound of bones tearing from socket raked Ussop's ears as he let out a high-pitched scream, his desperate scrabbling renewed with frantic vigor as he, with air pouring out of his burning lungs, managed to pull himself to the top. Sharp pain lanced up his calf and he looked down to see a set of canines stuck on his leg, wickedly jagged teeth glanced back at him as the first twin shot him a maniacal grin before the smooth ivory sunk deeper, parting his flesh, splitting tendons, digging past muscle and scraping bone.

An ear-piercing, pain-filled scream tore the air as the sniper howled and with a shriek, lashed out with his other foot kicking the monstrosity on its little nose as he scrambled back. The human/creature let out an angry squeal and Ussop's fumbling hands went straight for his beloved pouch.

"KAYAKU BOSHI!" the pellet exploded, shrouding him from sight as he spun around and on hands and knees, scuttled further ahead. He was – not that he'd admit – one of the more easily frightened members of the Strawhat seeing that he'd once arm himself from head to toe with garlic and crosses and stakes when he encountered Brook. Lying had always been one of his first and last lines of defense and he still to this day, utilized it shamelessly. Now, when faced with adversaries who would be more than happy to take a chomp off his body, the sniper found himself firing pellet after pellet of his pop greens at his opponent only to see them merrily swallow them as if he were shooting candy.

"YOU'RE IT MR. PEE PEE MAN!" a gruesome mouth out of nowhere, sprang out from the thick of the smoke Ussop threw himself back barely avoiding a mass of teeth to the head. "W-w-w-w-wait!" at his yell, the twins skidded to a stop, the dust cleared to show them standing side by side, their once four foot human bodies enlarged to a grotesque seven four with the body of what could be an crocodile, hunched and armored legs of a pangolin, thick tail of an anaconda, slender neck of five flamingos put together and the head of what seems to be a mixture human eyes and nose combined with a Megamouth shark.

The poor sniper was on the brink of a meltdown; he really, really wanted to haul his cowardly ass back to the ship to hide, he was too young to die! As if on cue, his mind was already mapping out a plan to get him to safety, whispering the best routes and the best angles out of sticky situations as this. But the thought of his mental promise to his navigator shoved a bit more of his rapidly fading backbone back to him as Ussop straightened up, ignoring the screaming pain from his leg.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Y-y-y-you wanna p-play a g-g-g-g-game?" when the look of pure excitement shone in the twin's eyes, the sniper gave himself a shaky mental pat on the back; so far, so good.

"W-why don't we play a game of hide-and-seek?" when he saw the way they were practically wiggling in childish eagerness, he pushed ahead, "I-I'll hide and you two will try to find me." They let out such a high squeal of happiness he had to slap his hands over his ears,

"And if we win mista?!" the sniper tugged on his bottom lip a moment before he brightened, "I-if you win, I'll let you guys be my servants!" at the twin frowns, he worried his lip once more,

"then if you win-" "We get to play with you!" the malevolent smiles on their faces had him stumbling back,

"P-play with m-me?" he chuckled nervously, dread curling up in his stomach and he watched in rapt horror as the look of bliss crossed their faces,

"Yas! I want to see if Mista Pee Pee's nose tastes like a sausage!" Arc was busy licking his lips and nodding in agreement,

"I wanna play with Mista Pee Pee's tummy! Mista Batey showed us dat longy and stringy…" Cross's warped brows twisted as he tried to find the right word,

"Intestine?" Arc supplied and Cross nodded vigorously,

"Yeah! Inwestine!" he bounced on his feet, "I had fun pwaying wit it!"

"I want Mista Pee Pee's toes!"

"I want his eyeballs and fingers!"

"I want-" Throughout the "I wants," the sniper's skin was gradually turning in a sickly insipid color as he staggered further back; anymore and he was going to hurl. At the movement, their heads turned, their long tongues unrolled from their mouths and hung out,

"Can we start?" Arc's scaly shoulders shook as he hopped in place. Saliva dripped between his fangs and pooled on the ground making Ussop shudder,

"O-o-o-o-o-of c-c-course! W-w-why don't you c-c-count to one t-thousand first o-o-o-okay?" for a beat, Arc's wide smile turned down and he tilted his head to the side, puzzled,

"I thought you were supposed to count to ten." Ussop let out a strangled laugh and gave what he hoped to be a smile,

"Ahahaha, the r-r-real r-r-rules are a-actually u-u-up to a th-th-thousand." unruffled by his stuttering, they gave a little chorus of "Okay!" before turning around and hunching over,

"ONE!" he was gone before the countdown even began, hobbling as best as he could with his injured leg. His Kabuto became his crutch as the sharpshooter stumbled over the roof and without another thought, threw himself off. Tears flew past his eyes and he gritted his teeth and rolled to his knees to hear the number "TWENTY!" echo in the night.

He was beyond exhausted; what time was it? Three? Four? His body was now running on nothing but pure fear and adrenaline. Sooner or later, fatigue would find him, but for now, he had to find his nakama for help. A pained groan left his mouth as Ussop continued to move on, doing his best to ignore the throbbing of his calf and his stomach shriveling up inside.

So he continued, faltering when the pain became too much. Sweat coated his face. By the time he arrived at what he hoped to be a good hiding spot, he was shaking from both tiredness and pain and gnawing hunger. Crouching inside a collapsed building, the sniper was already fumbling for his pouch, pulling out the necessary pop greens he would require to set a trap. The sound of thundering hooves nearby nearly made him drop his pouch when he saw a familiar furry creature clip-clop down his direction.

Tears pouring out his eyes, the sniper hurriedly scrambled out of his hiding place and practically threw himself onto the dark figure,

"Chopper! Thank god you're here!"

"Ussop!" a relieved, answering cry made the tears flow out even harder as the sniper buried his head in his best friend's warm fur, hugging tightly onto the reindeer. "You're leg! What happened?"

"I met the twins." He was shuddering as he gave the doctor a hasty recount of his meeting, watching as the poor reindeer became equally spooked with words of "wow!" and "really!" until he finally came to the conclusion, "we're going to die!" Ussop nodded in agreement, the tip of his nose trembling,

"We're going to die!" the cowardly duo embraced each other tightly.

"FOUND YOUUUU!" the joyful giggling sent the Strawhats leaping in the air shrieking as Ussop yanked frantically on Chopper's arm despite the look of utter horror on his nakama's face,

"RUN!" he screamed as the reindeer gave a loud yelp and immediately morphed, his head ducked down, horns scooping up the sniper before sprinting off. The ground shook beneath them, rocks crumbling around them as the twins' excited screeches resonated around them,

"I THOUGHT YOU TWO WERE SUPPOSE TO COUNT TO A THOUSAND!" Ussop shrieked,

"WE GOT BORRREEED!" came the answering laughter and Chopper renewed his pace, his hooves flying over the shaking ground, nimbly dodging falling articles as he leaped over a wall and scaled up a structure. When he finally skidded to stop, the poor doctor was trembling from the tips of his horns to the bottom of his polished hooves,

"W-w-w-w-w-w-what a-a-a-are th-they?!" he gasped as Ussop tumbled off his partner and collapsed to the ground,

"I-I don't know!" he panted, "some kind of devil-fruit user maybe?" Another thud made them jump and they turned around in time to see two gaping maws lunging at them,

"PLAY TIME!" inborn instinct had the cowardly duo splitting in time to avoid the sharp scrape of teeth and Ussop twisted around, his arms pulled back, shooting. Flames exploded, illuminating the rapidly fading night, sending enraged shrieks to the sky as Arc and Cross staggered back, their bulbous heads shaking as they fixed furious eyes at the Strawhats, spittles flying from their mouths,

"YOU BIG FAT MEANIES!" they screamed and with another cry, bowled toward them, claws out,

"HEAVY POINT!" a large fist smashed into the monstrosity's cheek, sending them crashing to the side,

"ARM POINT!" the doctor was in the air, his transformation rippling along his fur as the muscles climbed from the hooves of his legs to bunch up his arms, his dark brush of fur ruffling in the breeze as Chopper angled his body downward, hooves pressed together,

"KOKUTEI ROZEO MICHIERI!" with a strength that could easily crush a boulder, his hooves setup a stampeded rhythm of force, crashing his diamond hard hooves against his plated enemy's scales. An infuriated screech rented the air as one of the twin bowled out of the choking dust, his left side completely battered and blackened. With a speed that was shocking considering his size, he crouched for a split second before his large body soared into the air, his arms spread out as wide as possible before with a wild squeal, lashed his arms together sending a crisscross of slashes spiraling straight at the duo.

"GUARD POINT!" without a second thought, Chopper threw himself in front of Ussop, his small, furry body now fully bloated and enlarged as he bounced forward, sacrificing his body beneath the barrage of slashes.

"Oi Chopper! Stop- GAHH!!" the sniper let out a yell when he felt something sharp sink into his uninjured leg, this time, scoring directly for his thigh as the sharpshooter looked down to see another pair of fangs rip fire into his body . Pain exploded on his lower torso and the sniper barely had the energy to lash out with his Kabuto before his body crumbled to the ground. When the Guardia withdrew to nurse his wound, Ussop was left in excruciating pain. The wound the creature had created left at gaping hole an inch wide in diameter, Blood poured out profusely in streaming waves as the sniper's knees hit the ground, his expression pulled back, taunt as he struggled to hold back a scream of pain.

"Ussop!" Chopper reverted into his original form as he rushed toward his companion and the man held up a shaking hand,

"I-I'm fine." He croaked and curled both hands over his Kabuto, using it as a crutch as he pushed himself back to his feet. He was going to defeat them, his promise to Nami and avenge her was the only thing keeping him conscious as the sharpshooter, with violently trembling arms, stretched back his arms, his final, ultimate attack ready to fire.

"Stand back Chopper," he said hoarsely and the doctor quickly scuttled back, his dark eyes shining in anticipation.

"We're going to play with your tummies and eat your fingers and step on your face!" twin screeches of fury bunched together, their maws gaping open, fangs beginning to gleam as the night began to shy away from the coming light. With both hands firmly gripping his precious Kabuto, Ussop, with all his strength, braced his body against his weapon, his arms visibly straining from the effort as he with a loud shout, let go,

"MIDORI BOSHI IMPACT WOLF!" there was a distinctly shivering howl of triumph when the small pop greens sprouted in the air and took the form a lunging wolf with his head stretched forward, his bulbous nose pointing directly at the charging twins as it with a vicious roar went straight in a head-on collision. There was a vibrating explosion as the tip of the wolf's nose ignited, setting of a powerful shockwave, directly striking its opponents with deadly accuracy. Sky-high screams echoed across the dead city as the twins stumbled back, twisting, shuddering and twitching till they lay on the dirt caked ground, a large, lifeless paroxysm.

"S-SUGOI~!" stars of admiration shone in the doctor's eyes and Ussop felt a monumental rush of pride fill his body; he was pretty darn amazing wasn't he? With the last bit of strength he had left in his battered body, the sniper stuck his right hand in the air, his bandaged finger pointing up to the sky just as the first rays of the morning sun graced over his trembling form,

"On the Sniper Island I was born.

A hundred shots, a hundred hits. Lu lu lala lu.

Even a mouse's eyes lock on!

Even your Heart lock on!

The man who came from the Sniper Island.

Lu lu lu lulu lala.

Run Away!

Sogegege Soge Soge

Sogeking!" as the last words of the song left his mouth, the sharpshooter felt his body give way and he buckled down in a graceless heap.

Long live God Ussop!

***

I honestly enjoy writing about the cowardly duo! It's amazing how much they've grown over the years!  
Thank you for reading!  
Comments and Critiques are welcomed!  
"Long live God Ussop!"  
~ Fictionpadfoot


	17. Remember

Law saw the damage done to the Strawhat's navigator and felt a slight pant of sympathy well up in his gut. This wasn't the first time he witnessed the results of rape and this most likely wasn't going to be the last.

He wasn't well acquainted with the crew's guide nor did he bother to sit down and make an effort to get to know her better. But he respected her talents and acknowledged her skill to the point of grudging admiration.

Was he angry? Of course he was. The surgeon regarded the navigator as someone who brought important and valuable assets to the crew. Hurting her would not only burden the members, but it would also provoke them to vengeance; and that is where Law agreed with them; retribution.

The party had a single-minded goal; take down the perpetrator and bring the current king down.

The day of the navigator's assault was a day full of new perspectives and outlooks.

He'd never seen the Strawhat crew so solemn nor had he seen their captain so furious.

The Heart Captain had felt the entire ship tremble beneath the black wave of rage that nearly flattened the occupants including himself. The silent yet destructive force behind the Strawhat captain's words had Law giving Luffy a healthy respect and looking at him in a completely different telescope.

The captain cared for his crew, that much was blatantly obvious, the emotions rolling off the man's shoulders had Law tucking his chin down to hide his expression; deference.

The surgeon had always thought that the doodle-dee doodle-dum captain was someone who, although harbored an immense power, constantly relied on his crew to pull him to the right direction. He never saw the man to be someone to be taken seriously unless it was in the thick of the battle. Law respected the captain for his unwavering loyalty and his overwhelming strength, his view on the Strawhat's opinions and the results of trying to have an intelligent conversation with him? Not so much.

Seeing the idiotic captain with such a serious expression on that day however, had thrown the surgeon off kilter. Although the hunger for reprisal fueled the man's words and actions, the way he took command and the way he presented himself when his crewmates acted to his orders was almost…admirable. The ship had worked like a well-oiled machine, each having their respective jobs and directions in which they performed without fail.

On that day, he had the opportunity to watch the Strawhat Captain step up and fill his role as leader. He became the spectator who watched as Luffy and his crew moved in symphony, not a single member missed a beat as they all soundlessly split and headed off under their commander's orders had him raising a brow.

He was pretty darn impressed.

Now, as Law lay on the ground, his body thrumming with pain, the agony was mostly centered on his missing limb that had been sawed off, he'd come to the conclusion that the Strawhat deserved more than a simple thank you. The clueless captain was naïve and loyal to a fault, yet he had earned the Heart Captain's grudging respect and to some extent, wonder.

I'm prepared to die with him, Law blinked as the thought took root and he let out a hoarse chuckle; the idiot was truly a miracle man, he had the ability to heal broken countries and draw people to him like moths to flame. The throbbing increased and the surgeon coughed again as he allowed his eyes to trail up and watch the ever rising smoke billow in the night; this was a man he could call his friend, someone who forged his own path and despite the circumstances, rise out of the battle dominant and victorious.

I'm prepared to win. Hope bloomed in his blood-stained chest and Law allowed a brief flicker of a smile to flit over his mouth,

"You better f*ck him up good for me Strawhat-ya."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Sharp clangs of blade against blade rang in the air, the memorable shouts and jubilating calls of "YOHOHOHOHO!" ringing out in challenge. Even in the midst of the early morning, you could see our musician still going strong with his opponents. It was exceptionally remarkable seeing how Brook was doing a pretty spectacular job holding his ground against two of Donquixote Guardia's Brain and Brawn: Daven Collins and Steven Spillburn. The two stood at a good five eight, each with their own individualities and while they weren't brothers in blood, their similar backgrounds- parents who left them to their own devices and never played much of a parental role throughout their childhood- strengthened their bond.

Both Steven and Daven had met each other in a hospital when Daven – age 3- was diagnosed at with 40 percent more muscle than the average child and Steven – age 4- was brought in for surgery for a bone marrow transplant. It was then when a month's stay in the hospital turned out to be a weekly visit from Daven to Steven's bedside for the next decade.

At the tender age of 18 months, Daven was able to walk upright on two feet and by the early stages of 3, he was able to run and climb up and down stairs. Now to a parent, they may think that their child was simply physically gifted, but when they saw their child pick up a bowling ball and wave it around like it was nothing, it was then that they discovered that something wasn't quite right with Daven. He was diagnosed with a disorder called Myostatin-related muscle Hypertrophy which, in a nut-shell, blocks a certain protein in charge of muscle growth. Because of this, Daven possesses nearly fully developed skeletal muscle in his shoulders, biceps and deltoids and along his abdomen and thighs. This genetic boost of strength eventually led to complaints from the daycare center about Daven 'misusing' his strength to bully others.

"He'd push the other children down if they didn't listen to him." They'd complain.

It was when Daven turned 12 when he finally snapped; his childhood misunderstanding had grown into a never ending blur of name-calling.

"Watch out for the weird Hulk." The kids would jeer and give him the cold shoulder. By that age, the kid was already packing more muscle than a highschooler, his disorder had unfortunately stunted his growth with the physicians predicting that he'd grow no taller than 5"6" at most. Daven Collins had become the center of entertainment and was the 'circus freak' of his school.

When the middle school hotshot decided to pull his britches higher and gang up on Daven to test how much it took to "Break the Hulk" by grabbing a pair of scissors and with his friends, cut up his backpack and the contents inside it, Collins lost his temper.

The hospital that Steven was held in had gotten a call that some boys from a middle school were on their way to the hospital. When the hospital doors opened, in wheeled six boys wrapped in a full body cast and stuck to IV drips; Daven had thrown each and every one of them against the walls of the handball court, slamming them so hard he shattered their bones and even rendered one of them permanently paralyzed.

This of course, led to his expulsion from the junior school and from then on, Daven's weekly visits to Steven's hospital room became nightly visits. He'd sneak out at soon as the clock struck eleven pm, make his way toward the hospital and be back in his room at four in the morning. With his size and his rapidly growing height, it allowed him the boost to climb up to the third floor where Steven kept his window open for him to scamper in.

He'd tell Steven about his days, complain about his life but never once did he grumble about his physique.

Steven, at an incredibly young age was suddenly carted into the hospital looking for a bone marrow donor and had been waiting for 13 years for someone who would be willing to donate. Because of his rare condition that required a certain type of marrow, it was highly unlikely that he'd get the opportunity. What was interesting was the strength of his perseverance; he was fighting a steadily losing battle with leukemia and to most, it was obvious that his chances of survival was slim.

So he waited.

And waited.

And soon…he began to despair.

When Daven popped into his window, he became not only the little ray of sunshine, but the telescope in which Steven was able to live his life through. With Daven's help, the duo forged an unbreakable bond that bolstered Spillburn's will to live. It wasn't till four years later when they found a suitable donor for Steven.

In total, Steven Spillburn fought a long and grueling 17 year battle with his disease. Steven's high-paying, up to the sky in status and reputation parents, other than paying for his medical bills and ensuring that he was taken care of during his stay at the hospital, didn't have much of an interaction with him besides the weekly reports and the monthly visits.

Donquixote Guardia had become as close as it could get to a home and Doflamingo, their father figurehead might as well be their biological parent for all it matters.

At the age of 27 and 28, Daven and Steven became known as Donquixote Guardia's famous Brain and Brawn with Steven's almost computer-like mind that rivaled Pental's and Daven's huge, powerful bulk that was second to none.

Alone, they did a fair job at holding their own. Together, they were unmatched in every battle.

So it was a slap to the face when they realized that this bone white, skinny as heck and annoying as hell, skeleton was keeping up with their blows and to make matters worse, he was laughing and doing these silly little Yohohoho's while he was at it.

Steven Collins was gradually losing ground and he gritted his teeth, his double-bladed katana a deadly whirlwind as he deftly blocked the musician's attacks; he had to admit that the skeleton was an amazing and well versed swordsman the way he fenced with his weapon with a permanent grin on his face. As Spillburn ducked to avoid a jab to his eye, a memory flashed in front of him and he grimaced, his arm rising in time to block another blow:

He remembered flashes of fiery hair that now flickered in front of his eyes.

He remembered bits and pieces of him grabbing onto a slim wrist and forcing the slender fingers over his incessantly throbbing cock that was busy complaining like a whiny b*tch.

He saw Daven beside him, remembered the feel of his partner's muscular body rubbing beside his, sweat coating his upper torso as Collins fisted the girl's brilliant hair back to suck face with her…

Steven blinked and frowned when he reverted back to the present; who was the girl? His bright, blue eyes flicked over to Daven and seeing the way the large man stumbled a bit on his two-step pattern, knew that the man was experiencing the same thing.

"Hanauta Sancho: Yahazu Giri!" lighting fast cuts and jabs that nearly severed his head from his torso lashed out at him and Steven let out an abrupt curse before he quickened his pace, blocking nearly each and every strike with deadly accuracy.

"Magnificent Steven-san!" the skeleton cried as Steven let a small smirk tug from his lips and he danced over to Daven,

"Did you see what I saw?" he murmured, green-dyed hair flew past the Hulk's face and he casted a look at Steven, a hint of a smile brightening up his sullen expression,

"Yea." He grunted and a full blown grin encased his lips, "she was pretty f*cking hot." Steven rolled his eyes and shook his head; although the deep-seated knowledge of what they did was completely and morally wrong, he wasn't about to repent, he wasn't even feeling slightly remorseful of his actions. Their insane amount of testosterone build-up had them flaring their nose every time the sweet scent of female wafted past their noses. The Red Haze was becoming harder and more difficult to suppress; Steven wasn't even going to go into the things he and Daven were forced to turn to for relief.

~ Flashback to Assault ~

Fayler had put his foot down one day in the breakfast hall, shucked his cloak over his shoulder and stormed out of the room growling that he was going to go grab a stiff drink.

They all knew that alcohol was the last thing he had in mind.

It was early in the morning, so early that only a few shops were open and the alleys of Dressrosa were near dead quiet. Serg had reluctantly allowed them to go out on a patrol with the exception of Ambrose, who was on his way back from his mission and Arc and Cross who chose to stay behind because they wanted to play with one of Bate's recently dissected victims. Steven let out a sigh; Arc and Cross, 7 year olds stuck in a grotesque monster's body, they made quite a pair.

The Donquixote Guardia had rounded a corner in time to see a woman with the hair of a flaming sun arguing profusely with the shopkeeper over a few hundred sets of clothing. The poor man was hinging between blowing steam and begging the woman to leave his shop at the ridiculously high discount she was asking for.

"F*ck me." Aiden muttered and Steven had to agree; long blazing orange-red locks reaching down to the edges of her buttocks, the flimsy top she had on was doing a poor job covering melon-size breasts he longed to bury himself in and a pert ass that made a few of them falter in their steps,

"The minute she leaves, I'm going to take that sweet ass." Faylar was rubbing his hands together, his dark eyes gleaming in anticipation. They all turned eager eyes to a rigid Serg who was shifting uncomfortably on his spot; the man was practically uptight in every aspect and it was only when he was in the throes of battle when he was truly happy.

There was a hint of a gleam in their commander's eye as he inspected the woman who was now strolling in their direction, empty-handed. Catching the small nod of approval, the Donquixote made their move. Steven immediately shuffled back along with the others, pushing himself back till he and the rest faded away behind a low bridge as they watched her pass by, her honey-suckle perfume sent sparks of pleasure ratcheting down his spine as he watched in rapt hunger as she wandered deeper into Dressrosa.

It was only when the woman finally ventured further away from the thick of the stores when Faylar, who had been impatiently snarling made his move.

"F*ck it, I can't take it anymore," he hissed and lunged. He was behind her in four bounds, his large hands immediately wrapped around the woman's slim waist, pushing her non-too gently to the ground. Her shout of anger was quickly swallowed by a loud bellow from Bates when she brought her weird stick up and nailed him straight in his groin.

"You b*tch!" he howled and she shouted something obscene before she took off only to be cornered by Aiden who had been slowly advancing, his eyes shining in expectation as he backed her to the middle,

"Don't be scared, I'm not going to bite…hard." He sent her a wolfish grin which she retaliated with bared teeth and a snarl of contempt. In a split second, Mason was behind her, his fingers a vice-grip around her toned arms and she flipped backwards, her mile long legs shot up to slam over his head and with a curse, he released her,

"I like her, she bites," Aiden grinned and Steven smirked in return before he made his move, ducking past her weird stick and knocking her back to the ground. His finger snagged the strap of her top and with a single wrench, yanked it off.

"Thirty points." A series of low whistles and groans sounded as Spillburn dangled a scrap of fabric over his finger. The women let out a screech, her arm immediately shot up to cover her exposed breasts, the other, a white knuckled grip on her weapon. Faylar stalked up behind her, a dangerous rumble in his chest as he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her into the air and rammed two fingers into her diaphragm.

There was a strangled gasp and the women collapsed to the ground in a coughing fit.

"Be gentle with her." Antonio growled and he walked up to her, a bit of the Red Haze receding as he bent to inspect her; Antonio Bastilla, when he wasn't under the influence of the Haze, was one of the most temperate Steven had the honor of knowing. Not once did he see Bastilla ever raise a hand against a woman or child. There was the crack of lighting and the entire Guardia leaped back in shock when a thick bolt of lightning shot straight down from the heavens and struck the large man. His earth-shattering bellow of pain was loud enough to wake the dead as the man staggered back breathing heavily, his eyes fully glazing over,

"Shit." Steven muttered when the mountain-size man released a roar and launched himself toward her only to be thrown back by an equally livid Faylar as the two lunged at each other, their exchanged blows shaking the ground; the Red Haze stripped everything but the male's most elemental instincts, and that was to feed and f*ck.

Crimson red floated over Steven's pupils and he gave a violent shake of his head, need seizing him, shaking him to the point where he was practically salivating as he snuck behind her, wound his fist around her beautiful hair and buried his nose into the crook of her neck, his blunt teeth scraping the silky skin. He ignored the furious jab to his gut, his loud moan resounding in the air when her frantic hands accidentally brushed back between his legs and she jerked and swore.

"SIR!" the sound of a group of Doflamingo's foot soldiers had every man freezing on the spot.

Oh…shit; if Doflamingo caught them ready to do the deed, he'd...Steven inwardly cringed; the amount of inflicted torture was too painful to even think about.

The small group, no more than ten was visibly shaking in their boots as the leader shakily cleared his throat,

"Is there a probl-" no sooner he had spoken when a bubble with a…cloud? Floated past Steven's nose and he tilted his head back, a look of surprise and disbelief on his face. His eyes followed the bubble no bigger than the palm of his head up and he bent his neck back to see a circle of small bubble encased clouds drifting up to an angry looking smoky, black cloud bristling with small zaps of lightning.

"EVERYONE TAKE COV-" Pental's alarmed shout was lost as an even louder command blared above his and everyone's eyes darted to the fiery-haired woman. She had managed to free her arms and had her staff whirling inches above Steven's head, her expression a vision of wrath as she leveled a blistering glare at her enemies,

"THUNDERBOLT TEMPO!" Shock ran a live wire in Steven's body as he watched each and every one of the guards and the elites let out a multitude of curses and shouts as a blast of light illuminated the entire area. The palace guards, to Steven's astonishment, crumbled to the ground in dead faint, their clothes blackened and the rest of the elites, still letting of strings of profanities in a variety of languages, got to their feet shaking their limbs.

A thick pair of hands grabbed the woman by the shoulders and yanked her out of Steven's grip and he looked up to see Serg's furious eyes glowering at her. To her credit – or her stupidity whichever- she stood her ground, her chin tilted arrogantly up, trimmed brows slanted down, jaw clenched as she glared right back.

He was pretty sure that her defiant look was going into everyone's spank bank.

Before Spillburn could even move a muscle, Daven – the sneaky bastard – had slipped in front of him, his thumbs hooked over the bands of her skirt and with surprisingly deft fingers, he snapped them off and danced back, a mischievous grin on his face,

"Twenty points!" he chuckled and waved the ripped skirt around in the air. Just like that, the atmosphere lightened and the rest of the Guardia let out a delighted whoop and moved toward her.

"That will you cost two million berries you bastards," the women finally found her voice and was baring her teeth, "you ripped my favorite top and bottom which I bought for two hundred and thirty belis NOT including tax and messed up my hair that I just got cut for a hundred and ten belis," her nose turned upward, "add that up with my one hundred and ten percent interest and that would cost you more than what your pathetic lives are worth."

That wiped the smug expression off the commander's face. With a soft growl, he tangled his fingers into her thick locks and gave her hair a harsh jerk as he tipped her chin up, her pouty lips parted and a small cry left her bee-stung lips,

"What do you mean we owe you b*tch?" Rafael Serg didn't do too well under others orders, sure he'll lower his head when the time was appropriate but the man would never lower his body to his knees, his pride would never allow it. "Listen up and listen well, we own you now," the need to dominate was evident on his face as he slid his hand around to collar over her throat, his other lowered to his pants, the distinct clink of a belt unsnapped indecently loud.

"I'm next." Faylar smirked and Lore let out a hiss,

"Not this time Bates," the man's long charcoal grey colored hair tied back in a high tail swung to and fro as the European shouldered his way to the forefront, his sapphire orbs fixated hungrily onto the pert breasts she was futilely trying to cover despite Serg exerting enough force to snap a woman her size in two. "You need to step back and give us a chance to take the edge off our bollocks." He winced and reached down to adjust his pants, "I feel like my c*ck is about to snap off." Faylar whirled onto his fellow elite, his lips pulled back in a threatening snarl,

"Want me to snap it off for you?" he snapped and the 28 year old sniper's jaws tightened,

"Enough." The commander's menacing growl efficiently silenced the group as he turned back to the woman only to hear a battle cry break the silence as two figures leaped down from a nearby building and headed for them. One was sporting a red striped aviator hat and a five prong-shaped stick bent inwards strapped over his back. The other was a reindeer with a poufy blue and red hat plopped between his antlers and a backpack strapped over his back. Both wore twin expressions of thunderous rage as the reindeer morphed into a large creature standing on two legs, his large fists swinging in the air. Faylar and Antonio both wore matching grins as they, with a roar of challenge, lumbered forward; their bodies seem to grow in size as the two elite members launched themselves at the shaggy brute, weapons unleashed.

"Midori Boshi Take Jave-rin!" Steven let out a hoarse curse when the back of his coat caught the tip of an emerging bamboo stick that sent him shoot up sky high. The yells and startled expletives echoed down the alley as members of Guardia were thrown in the air.

A flicker of annoyance on his face, Spillburn reached behind to unhook his coat from the tip, his body dropping soundlessly onto the ground and he turned to see Antonio slam his fist onto the creature's cheek and Faylar wrench the reindeer's head down to the ground by the antlers, the overwhelming power forced had the animal on its knees as Pentel and Lore slam the butt of their guns over its head.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR I'LL F*CKEN SHOOT HER!" Serg's voice was infuriatingly calm and everyone turned to see that the commander had his beloved gun pushed against the woman's head. Aiden frowned worriedly,

"H-hey commander, you're not gonna let us f*ck her?" the whine in his voice made Steven reach over and slap the back of the lad's head,

"Shut-up." He hissed and the young man spun around, his bottom lip sticking out,

"That hurt!" he griped and Steven rolled his eyes,

"Good."

By the time the duo surrendered their weapons; Levi and Lore were already slapping a pair of seastone cuffs over their wrists, their legs then lashed out to kick both of the pair's legs knocking them on their knees.

Red tinged the commander's irises and despite his near perfect control, even Serg could not oppose the Red Haze. In the commander's case, the Haze brought out his more dominant and sadistic personality as he rubbed his gun against the woman's skin,

"I enjoy a little voyeurism so I won't mind if your little friends want to watch." The woman pleaded for her companion's release and the commander seem to give her a once over and Steven noted the glint of admiration the powerful man let slip. Just then, the air stifled and he saw the bloody crimson color surge forward and blanket over his eyes. At that moment, Spillburn felt his own eyes lids lower as blackness drifted over him, the pain overwhelming and he let himself fall into the bliss of mind-numbing silence.

He blinked awake, his mind sluggishly working in time to feel his c*ck slipping between something so soft, so wet and so tight he knew without a doubt that he was shamelessly moaning and grinding his hips. Faylar's heavy grunts of pleasure along with the sounds of the other elites as his eyes closed once more and his mind slipped deep into darkness…

A roar of satisfaction had wrenched him again out of his sleep-induced mind and Steven found himself beneath the woman's bountiful breasts, his hands were gripping her so tightly he knew automatically that he was hurting her as his mouth descended onto her dusky nipples, licking and sucking his way till everything blurred out and all he saw and felt was her pliable body jerking over his...

This time, he was in crouching in front of her, his lips nibbling along her jaw and he glanced over to see a pair of dark eyes clouded in tears, the liquid splashing down her cheeks as she stared past him, her expression empty, her bottom lip tucked under her teeth. Something wet landed on the back of his palm and he withdrew to see a drop of blood spattered over his skin; she was biting herself to keep from screaming.

He didn't like that.

He didn't like it at all.

And yet, he found himself unable to stop.

Again his lids grew heavy and Steven felt his conscious again, slip beneath murky waters.

He didn't resurface.

***

(A/N): Wow! I wrote quite a bit this time. Haha i hope it wasn't too graphic this time for you guys. I apologize if it was but i felt that it is necessary to revisit the scene since this entire story will be revolving around it and her gradual recovery. I also like to be able to cover all my bases, make sure they're aren't any plot holes or things that will leave you readers wondering. Like how did Nami end up running into them in the first place? What events took place in the Donquixote Guardia's dwelling that led to this? I take small things like that into consideration.

I don't think I'm going to be writing another chapter at this length for a very long time hahaha, it's incredibly tiresome and takes a long time to come up with - although a part of me thinks that another one of these will be coming back to bite me again later on.

Despite the intense content in this chapter, i sincerely thank you guys for putting up with this dark theme and sticking with me on this journey.

It'll get better, of this I promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll continue to post here depending on the reactions and feedback given, until then...


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